The Pack Survives
by Youngthundercat67
Summary: The last thing he saw before his head was taken off was the horror in his daughter's eyes. Then came the flashes, the visions of the atrocities that would happen to his family but the gods have given him a second chance. What changes can Eddard Stark make to win the Game of Thrones? Mix of books and show. AU.
1. Catelyn I

A/N: Had this idea in my head for a while now, and have been writing it for a while. Finally decided to post. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Catelyn Tully had never expected this life.

She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun to the south, a land that was much warmer. Growing up she had heard stories of the north, of the savages, of the uncivilized people, of all types of horrors.

Her husband, Eddard Stark, changed that for her. Her father had always told her that war could change a man, but she didn't know what that really meant until she saw Eddard for the first time after Robert had been crowned, sitting in the Great Halls of Winterfell.

The first thing she had noticed was his warm smile, he looked at her as a man that was already in love, not as a man who had barely known his wife. She remembered that he noticed the baby, their son, in her hands, and how he cried at first sight of him.

"Robb," he had called out, clutching their son in his arms, seeming as if he would never let go. Oddly enough, she had never written him and told him Robb's name before he came home. Somehow, he just knew and when she birthed the rest of her children, he knew as well.

In the beginning, they didn't have much, but Ned had accomplished a lot in seventeen years. Moat Calin had been rebuilt. He bought peace between Skagos and the mainland. Nearly 100,000 people from north of the wall had settled peacefully south of it. He restored the Nights Watch, increased trade and profit by selling wood and fur. The list went on and on. She knew that history would look favorably on her husband and she couldn't have been more happy. She was currently married to the richest man in all of Westeros and had six wonderful children who see loved and adored. Life was good. The gods had blessed her.

At that moment, however, she didn't feel very blessed. She would have to be the bearer of bad news, of pain to her wonderful husband and had to go to the godswood. She had never liked the godswood of Winterfell, it was dark, and primal, where the godswood of Riverrun had been a light place where she could read or play with her sister.

However, she knew her husband and knew she would be here. Every time he took a man's life, he would sit on that same moss-covered stone, and clean his sword in the quiet of these woods and that is where she found him, in the center, under the weirwood,

"If you kill a man and it's just, seek forgiveness from the gods and they will take your guilt away," he always said.

She saw Lyarra first, or rather Lyarra felt her. The large grey direwolf lifted her head, sniffed the air, and wagged her tail when Catelyn came into view. Lyarra was one of Ned's oddities.

A moon ago Ned had returned from a hunt with a very pregnant direwolf he had somehow befriended and named after his mother. "They have the same eyes," he had told her softly but that wasn't even the strange part. "She will birth six pups," he said. "Grey Wind, Ghost, Lady, Nymeria, Summer and Shaggy Dog. They will protect our children and they will all live to be old, and perhaps have pups of their own."

Surely enough, two weeks later, Lyarra gave birth to six direwolves, and, just like Ned had told her, her children had named them Grey Wind, Ghost, Lady, Nymeria, and Shaggy Dog. Bran had yet to name his yet, but she was sure the wolf's name would be Summer. They were all currently there in the godswood with Ned, feeding from their mother.

"Ned," she called softly. He lifted his head and flashed a brilliant smile. He had done everything he could to make her fall in love with him, she couldn't imagine any other life.

"My love," he said, his voice was loving and warmed her. "Where are the children?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. She smiled back. He was always worried about the children. The only love greater for their six children than hers was his, and she thought that had done a fine job raising all six of them.

"Robb and Jon are with Ser Arthur," she said proudly. She was truly proud of her two boys, even if Jon wasn't really hers. In honor of Lyanna, she raised the boy as her own and gave him the best of everything, just like she gave her children.

All those years ago, Ned returned home not only with a babe in his hands, but also with the Sword of the Morning as his guard. She had thought the rumors of Ned's love affair with Ashara Dayne to be true, and that her brother had come North to be the protector of his sister's child.

The truth was more tragic. The truth was the Lyanna and Rhaeger Targaryen had been in love, had gotten married, and Jon had had been result. The whole rebellion had been based on a lie. Ser Arthur had sworn to Rhaeger, to Lyanna, that he would do anything to protect their son, and Ned had convinced Robert to release him from his vows, so he was allowed go North with Ned. He and Ser Rodrik had been training soldiers and her children ever since.

She called Lyarra over to her and sat at the edge of the pool where she scratched between her ears.

"How do they fare?" Eddard asked, he had always been interested in the training and education of his children. From an early age, he had them all involved, listening and learning when he completed his duties as Warden of the North.

"Ser Arthur claims that if they went south, they would win all the tournaments and ladies from the Wall to Sunspear would throw themselves at them," Catelyn replied proudly, and Ned smiled.

"And Sansa?" Ned asked.

"With Domeric, of course," Catelyn answered. "I agree that she is too young, Ned but I don't know how longer you should wait. Surely with him being the last Bolton, he will need to take a wife soon."

"I know," Ned responded grimly, before his features went soft, "I'm just not ready to give her up yet."

Domeric Bolton was like another one of her children. His father and bastard brother had died when the boy was fostering in the vale due to a terrible attack and Ned had decided to raise him as his own.

"You can't blame a boy for the sins of his father," he would say. She had doubts that he really believed that when it came to Domeric. Roose Bolton and Ramsay snow had died on their way to Winterfell after they were summoned by Ned. They were attacked by bandits but the culprits were never found. She could tell that Ned wasn't quite fond of Domeric, if she was honest, Ned really hadn't had much love for Roose Bolton and seemed to transfer that mistrust to the boy, but he would never admit that.

"Not ready to give her up, or not sure about who you are giving her up to?" Catelyn asked. Ned glanced at her with piercing eyes, sighed and then shrugged.

"Arya?" Ned asked. He had obviously moved on from Domeric, so she decided it would be best to let it be. For now.

"No doubt somewhere practicing with her bow," Catelyn sighed.

Ned laughed. "Sansa does the same."

"Sansa doesn't give Septa Mordane any of the trouble Arya causes," Catelyn responded. Ned had insisted that all the children would know how to defend themselves. Sansa and Arya had been trained with a bow from a young age, and while Sansa preferred the dagger, she still wanted to be a proper lady, Arya preferred the sword.

"I understand that you want the children to protect themselves," Catelyn continued, "but she must learn to be a Lady as well as a warrior."

"She had just as much wolfblood as Lyanna and Brandon combined," Eddard quipped but gave in when Catelyn groaned, "I will speak with her about taking her other lessons more seriously."

"Have Jon do it, she might actually listen," Catelyn responded with a smile. Arya and Jon had always been close.

Ned laughed again before moving to his next child. "Bran?" he asked.

"Somewhere climbing with William," Catelyn found herself sighing again. "I wish they wouldn't."

Eddard sighed and nodded as well, that was something that he had always agreed with her on. He didn't like when Bran climbed.

"You would have been proud of Bran," he spoke again softly after a great sigh. She furrowed her eyes, why did he seem so frustrated?

"I'm always proud of Bran, of all the children," she responded truthfully. He nodded at her, but still saw that same look of frustration lingering.

"What bothers you my love?" she asked, and he sighed again.

"He was the fourth this year Cat," he responded. "I don't know what else to do. I have strengthened the Nights Watch. I provide them with food, with horses, with gold. They have enough men to man most of the major keeps along that wall, and yet men like him are craven. Is there nothing else that can be done?"

"You have done all you can Ned. Some men are just not built for the wall. Can you blame them?"

He nodded but she turned serious. "Did he speak of the others?"

"Aye," he responded simply.

She frowned. "You must not let Jon go there."

"I know," he agreed, again frustration seeping through, "but what else can I do? We've tried everything yet he still wants to go. He doesn't think he belongs here."

"Maybe," she started and stopped before continuing, "Maybe we should tell him the truth."

"Aye," Ned responded. Maybe its time but you did not come here to speak of the Wall or the children. What news do you have for me?"

"How did you know?" Catelyn asked, and like always, when Ned knew that he shouldn't, he just shrugged. "I dreamt it."

"There was terrible news today from the capital. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself," she braced herself, knowing there wasn't a way to soften the blow. "I am so sorry my love, Jon Arryn is dead."

Her eyes found his and saw something that she didn't expect. She saw shame in his eyes, she saw regret. He muttered something so low, that if it was not for the quiet of the godswood she wouldn't have heard him, "I couldn't save him."

She wanted to question him, wanted to ask him what he meant but he spoke first. "Your sister," he said. "And Jon's boy? What word of them?"

"She returned to the Vale," Catelyn responded.

"I suppose that Robert travels North now?" Ned asked her.

"Yes," Catelyn responded, "how did you know?"

"It only makes sense," he responded warily. "He is going to want me to be his Hand."

"Will you accept?" she asked softly.

"I'm certain I will for the time being," Ned responded cryptically after what seemed to be an intense internal battle.

"Your dreams are just dreams Ned," Catelyn responded softly. He had once told her about a terrible nightmare where he had he was beheaded in Kings Landing on the orders of Prince Joffery. "You won't be executed in Kings Landing."

Ned looking at her piercingly again, "I know. Winter is coming."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, so first one down. Tell me what you think of course. Next one will be a very, very short Tyrion chapter, followed by Ned.


	2. Tyrion I

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback! I appreciate it, so I decided to throw this one out there. It's short, but hopefully I can get a much longer one out by the end of this weekend. Again, let me know what you think.

* * *

Tyrion

The Neck was boring and a hazard to travel. It was apparent that the causeway leading through the swampy lands had been improved, but the travel was still dangerous. It was dark, narrow, and felt like the sun never shined there.

They had lost four men to the quicksands because they had decided to walk too wide, and another who had been allured by the beauty of a huge flower blooming only to try to pluck it and be taken down and drowned by a lizard-lion. That was with crannogmen who had come to guide them through safely. He couldn't imagine what anyone would do without them.

His beloved sister Cersei had often complained that they should have just sailed to White Harbor, but King Robert wanted to ride. There was rumor that Eddard and Benjen Stark had rebuilt Moat Cailin, but nobody but travelers could confirm it. Even Varys had a hard time getting his birds north of the Crossings.

It had taken them twelve days crossing the Neck before it felt like they were finally reaching the end. He could see the sun start to shine through the trees up ahead, and the causeway started to widen only for it all the be swallowed up as the shadow of Moat Cailin towered over them all.

They had rebuilt the Moat. From what he knew, the fortress was supposed to only have three broken towers remaining, but he could easily count fourteen in the distance. It's walls were as tall, perhaps even taller, than those in King's Landing. It was impressive, yet still, it wasn't Casterly Rock.

"Riders," the crannogmen had called out, making the King's party aware that someone was coming at them.

"Benjen!" he heard King Robert call out before his voice turned wary and said, "what in the seven hells is that?"

Tyrion had never met Benjen Stark before, but he looked how most Starks were described. Sharp features, with a long face. His eyes were different though, they were blue that held a hint of laughter at the Kings outburst but the animal he was riding was much more interesting

"This is a hybrid, Your Grace," Benjen responded with pride. "When I married my wife to bring peace between Skagos and the mainland, they offered us herds of unicorns. The Rysewell horse breeders worked together with the unicorn breeders of house Crowl, and together they created these beauties. As big and strong as any courser but as quick and mobile as a unicorn."

They were something to look at. This one was brown, and like Benjen explained, had the outside appearance of a horse except for its horn. The horn, stuck to its forehead, was long sharp and pointy. It looked as if it could gut a man.

"I want one," Robert said, and Benjen laughed.

"Talk to Ned when you get to Winterfell," he heard the younger Stark say.

"I would have thought you would met us at the gates," King Robert said, "Ned told me you would rebuild Moat Cailin, but I didn't think him to be serious."

Benjen lauged again, "When have you ever known our Ned not to be serious?" he asked. Robert laughed as well. "I came here to warn you," Benjen said. "My brother thought it to be best."

He whistled then, and the ground began to shake. It sounded like the gods were beating the earth like drums until he saw them one in the distance. Then one, turned to two, which turned into five, which turned into ten. He couldn't believe his eyes. Giants among men.

* * *

A:N: Originally this POV was from Robert. Decided to change it to Tyrion because I thought it would be better. Let me know what you thing. Ned is next.


	3. Ned I

A/N: Wow I never expected this much support on this. I really appreciate all the support and it motivated me to edit this one and push it through today instead of Sunday. I can promise the next one probably won't be posted until the middle of the week at the earliest however, it's my fiance's birthday week and I have plans haha. Again, thanks so much for the support!

* * *

Eddard

The Old Gods were cruel. Living twice wasn't a gift. It was a curse. Sure, he had the chance to save his family, but there was always the chance that this was some sort of joke or one of the seven hells Robert always spoke of. He had to see a lot of the same things twice, experience feelings he felt before, he knew what was coming, but most of the time he felt powerless to stop it.

Jon Arryn still died and it ripped at his sanity.

The North was definitely more prepared for the second Long Night now then they were before, and with most of the Free Folk now settled safely south of the wall, he wasn't sure that a second Long Night was even coming, yet he still prepared. He had to.

When he had gotten his head chopped off during his first life, or his dreams as he would tell Catelyn, the old gods had given him terrible visions of what had happened to his children. Robb and Catelyn murdered and betrayed in cold blood. Arya, a heartless assassin. Bran, a shell of his former self, Rickon murdered. Even though Jon, Arya and Bran eventually fell, as the rest of humanity did, to the King of the Night…

But the worst was Sansa. The Old Gods were cruel. They made him watch as Joffery tortured her for sport. They made him suffer as Baelish played mind games and toyed with her. Then repeatedly, the beat into his head how much he had failed his oldest daughter by watching her be raped by Ramsay over and over again.

Then, like nothing happened, he came back to conscious just in time to parry a strike from Ser Arthur's sword. He thought it was a vision but it was too vivid not to take serious. Everything changed then. He put plans into motion to make sure his wife and children would not suffer the same fats. He personally cut Roose Bolton's throat and had the great pleasure of running Ramsay down. It was no bandit attack, as everyone claimed, he did it on purpose.

Yet, somethings, it seemed, would be destined to stay the same. Jon still wanted to join the Watch. Catelyn loved him like a son this time, and he still felt out of place. He wanted to make the boy a King but he feared he wasn't ready.

Jon Arryn still died. He had warned him, time and time again through letter after letter about checking his meals for poison, only to be told he was growing paranoid. It was like he had all this knowledge about events of the future, but few took him serious enough to heed his warning.

Robert was still a drunk fool. He was sure the realm was in just as bad of a state financially as it was last time. This time he had the coin to fix it, and fix it quickly he planned on doing it for Jon to start fresh, but it was still the same.

"Ned, are you alright?" Catelyn whispered next to him. His face was long and grim, and he tightly nodded. Truthfully Jon Arryn's death had put him into a funk. He wasn't as sure as he used to be about anything.

The North was different when visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, but he wasn't sure that even with all his efforts, he could change anything. What was the point of it all if he could change nothing? Had he really been sent back just to protect his children?

"Ned!" he heard his friend yell, "It's good to see that frozen face of yours." The king looked him over, again, from top to bottom and laughed.

"I haven't changed at all?" Ned questioned with a smile. Robert laughed loudly again.

"Good thing you had Benjen tell us of the giants," Robert continued. "Half my men shit themselves when they come lumbering over those hills. I wasn't scared, I could take 'em."

It was Ned's turn to laugh. It was practiced, and it was fake but Robert wouldn't know that. Robert was still a fucking fool. It irritated him much more than it probably should have.

"Jon mentioned integrating the wildlings?," Ned asked.

"Aye," Robert said. "Thought you were a fool. I did too, told him you would be begging me for my help soon. You never did. Nine Years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours," Ned responded warily. He was tired of having the same conversations. Even if he said something different, at this point, he was sure the results would stay the same.

By then, the others were dismounting as well. Robert's queen, Cersei Lannister, descended gracefully from the wheelhouse they rode it. Ned made it a point to make the gate a tad bit wider this time, he didn't want to inconvenience the Queen… yet.

"Take me down to your Crypt, Ned," King Robert said. Ned was glad he missed the introductions due to his thoughts. "I want to pay my respects."

"Your Grace," Ned began with the sweetest smile he could muster before Queen Cersei could speak. "You have been riding for a month. Surely, your Queen and children could use a little rest before you see the dead?"

Queen Cersei actually smiled at him. Maybe the gods weren't so cruel after all. He smiled back, but Robert glared. "Ned."

They went down to the crypt together, Ned and this king that was the same. He still stunk of ale and strong perfume that attempted to hide it. He was still boisterous and bumbling, and not fit to run a kingdom. Ned knew that now. How he missed it before, he could never know.

"I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell," Robert complained as they descended the narrow steps toward the crypt.

"You forgot that my part is a big as the other six combined?" Ned quipped and Robert laughed. It was like a joke to him, except nobody else was in on it. It wasn't funny when no one else was laughing.

"Aye," Robert responded.

"I knew you wouldn't enjoy the journey; I remember writing you to sail," Ned responded. He didn't tell Robert to sail because he thought his friend would enjoy it, but because he wanted to try to keep the giants secret longer.

The truth was that giants were a huge deal. Where it would have taken normal men years to rebuild Cailin, with the giants help they had done it much less time. When they went to war with the south this time, giants would certainly help change a lot but he would have rather that stayed secret.

In reality, it had been easy to keep secrets from the south. The North was loyal to him and he had the benefit that the south thought they were a bunch of savages. Not many people from passed the riverlands journeyed north of the Neck, except criminals that were sentenced to the Watch, and he was sure no one would believe them anyway. If people did travel it was to Salt Harbor in the west or White Harbor in the east. The great thing about the Neck was that nobody wanted to travel it, so rebuilding the Northern fleet so that it could protect ships coming to and leaving the North had made it much easier to make something like Moat Cailin and giants a secret.

Giants were shy anyway. The didn't bother anyone and mostly kept to themselves in the areas and swamps around Moat Cailin. Their loyalty was owed to Benjen's ability to connect with them. The giants were more loyal to him, then they were to anyone else in the North.

Robert snorted and again bought him out of this thoughts. "Once we got past the Neck it was fine. There was this inn a bit north of the Moat, met a fellow named Tormund, told me this story about how he suckled the tit of a giant and that's how he had grown so strong. Then he out drank me, the bastard, never been out drank in my life."

He genuinely laughed at that. That was something he didn't know. "He was a free folk you know. Great fighter. He actually helps Benjen train the men at Moat Cailin."

"How did you convince them Ned?" Robert asked, "How did you convince all those people Jon told me about to come south of the wall, follow my law, bend the knee?"

He had to hold back a laugh. His law? That was funny. The Free Folk weren't loyal to Robert Baratheon. They were loyal to him like they were loyal to Jon in a past life.

"Winter is coming," Ned finally answered simply. Convincing them to follow the law wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, as much trouble as Jon had in his previous life. The most trouble he had was gathering them all together. Mance hadn't yet unified them when he started his work. Some of the wilder Free Folk decided to stay beyond the wall but were told they always had a spot in the north. The stoneborn gave him more trouble than the free folk did.

In the end, he had convinced most of them to integrate and follow the law. They settled in the lands of the gift and farmed food for the Nights Watch and worked hard enough to provide for a lot of the most northern keeps as well. Lord Umber was perhaps to most vocal opponent to integrating them until the first harvest hit. He didn't mind them much after the first harvest.

Others had decided to go to Sea Dragon Point and work under the Manderly's to help rebuild the Northern Fleet. They used the ironwood from house Forrester to build a fleet that kept the western side of the North safe from Ironborn raids, which allowed more and more people to populate the western shores. Now the west had its own bustling port called Salt Harbor that traded with the Reach and Westerlands protected by the naval base at Cape Kraken.

The east would not be neglected either and had built their own shipyard and naval base on the shores of Oldcastle that would protect the Eastern shores from pirates and protect the trade ships that traveled back and forth between Essos.

Most of the rumors about the Free Folk and stoneborn had been untrue anyway. They were mostly just isolated people who had to go to extreme measures to survive, when he took the extreme away, they integrated quickly. Benjen's marriage to the firstborn daughter of House Crowl helped as well.

With that the North made a fortune. It shipped lumber freely to Essos, and traded gold and food from the Westerlands and Reach.

Robert groaned. Ned had already told Robert and Jon about the Others. Had already begged them to help him. "The hell with your others," Robert said. "Besides, if you bought them all south, there won't be an army for them to raise," Robert continued and laughed. "Looks like you handled that threat."

The first smart thing Robert had said all day but he still ignored him and kept quiet. If he were honest, he often wondered the same thing. What threat could the Others possibly be without 100,000 dead people to send at them? Was this really the point of this all? Had the Old Gods sent him back just to rescue the Free Folk, so the dead didn't raise? What if they still did? How would they do it? At the time, saving the Free Folk made all the sense in the world. Now? Now he was left with the unknown. He wasn't sure he liked the unknown.

The Old Gods were cruel. He never second guessed himself the first time around, yet they bought him back. He had done something wrong. This time he had tried to do everything differently. Still, Jon Arryn still died, and it bothered him.

He shook his head to shake the thoughts. "She is at the end," he said quietly, "with Father and Brandon." He stopped and lifted the oil lantern when they reached her. "Here."

It was odd seeing Robert kneeling there praying to his sister, and in the quiet of the crypts his thoughts returned. He couldn't save Jon Arryn and he didn't want to save Robert Baratheon. When the time came, he would use the might of the North to destroy the Lions of the West and put Jon on the throne. He held all the chips. He knew what would happen. He would just play it differently.

Killing Roose had been part of his original plan. He had killed him and his bastard out of anger. It was him going on the offensive. Improving the North and the Watch so that it was more prepared for Winter was him being defensive. Killing Roose and his bastard had been fun.

"The Lannisters send their regards," he had told Roose before he slit his throat. He smiled at the thought, but that didn't mean it wasn't a mistake. Wasn't it better to deal with the hand he knew rather than the one he didn't?

Sure, Roose would not kill Robb this time, and Ramsay wouldn't rape Sansa but did he really change anything? Jon Arryn still died and it ate at him. Maybe someone else would just replace Roose and Ramsay to kill Robb and torture Sansa. He hoped the Old Gods weren't that cruel yet he couldn't help but think they were.

It wasn't if the fact that Jon Arryn had still died that bothered him. Jon still desired to go to the wall and Theon. Theon was still theon. He couldn't bring himself to harm Theon. Instead, he tried to curve his worst habits. He had forbidden trips to brothels, kept him on a tight training schedule, scolded him when he was rude, but always made sure to emphasize that he was like another son to him.

Yet Theon was still Theon.

"She deserved more that darkness…" he heard Robert say, no doubt going into his tired rant about how he loved her. They barely knew each other. Ned was sure that Robert loved him, like a brother, and therefore convinced himself he would love Lyanna the same. After all these years and two lives, Ned was convinced he wouldn't have. He was convinced he would have grown to hate her like he hated Cersei. The Lannister Queen was nothing compared to Lyanna.

"In my dreams, I kill him every night," Robert said. "A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves."

Before, he had found his devotion to his sister honorable. Now it was just creepy. The truth was that Rhaegar deserved none of what happened. His story was just as tragic as Lyanna's. Had they told the truth; sure the North still would have marched. Aerys still murdered his brother and father afterall, and sure Robert might still be King because none of the rebels would have dared accepted another Targaryen on the throne after what Aerys had done but things would have been different. Or, he liked to tell himself they would.

If the gods sent him back a little bit farther, he would like to think he could have saved them all, but they hadn't. They were cruel, they made him watch her die again. It was meant to be. Jon Arryn was meant to die. He couldn't save them… but if he couldn't save them, who could he really save?

"Maybe its time to dream something different," Ned responded finally. Again, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Getting lost in your own thoughts could make a man go crazy. He had to remind himself that fact often.

He wanted to ask him about leaving this place, about going back to the Queen, but thought better of it. He remembered the answer he received the last time.

"Tell me about Jon," he said, wishing to speed up this conversation.

"It was so quick," Robert replied. "We had a tourney on my son's name day. He looked fit. He was happy, holding his boy in his arms, moving about. A fortnight later he was dead."

Internally he took a deep breath. He had planned this for a long time in case Jon Arryn still died.

He sighed and spoke, "poison."

"What?" Robert said.

"It sounds like poison," Ned answered. Robert actually laughed.

"What does the honorable Eddard Stark know about poison?"

"Not everyone agreed with me about the free folk," Ned responded grimly. "I had a cup bearer, a young man, he saved my life one time. After Maester Luwin fixed him up, I gave the lad an abandoned keep, some men, and 40,000 gold dragons."

The man he spoke of was never in any real danger, but he needed that cover and decided to reward him for being an unknowing participant.

"I remember Jon telling me about that," Robert responded just as grim, and Ned gave him a questioning look. "I have a cup bearer," Robert began again tersely, obviously disliking being scolded like a child. "Jon refused. His wife had him convinced we were being paranoid. Lysa even promised to write Catelyn to check to see if you were still all there."

He smiled. He remembered that letter.

"Lysa told him not to get a cup bearer?" Ned pounced.

Robert thought for a moment, which, again, was rare for the King. He rarely thought before speaking. "Now that I think about it, she was the most against it, begged with us that it was a waste of time."

"Where is Lysa now?" Ned asked further.

"She disappeared, went back to the Eyrie. I think his death drove her mad Ned," Robert responded.

"So, a few moons after I send you messages about getting food and wine testers for your food," Ned started, needing to spell it out for his friend, "Jon Arryn died of poison after his wife convinced him I had grown paranoid?"

Robert slowly put it together and his face grew enraged, "I'll demand she return to Kings Landing at once."

"She won't go," Ned responded. "She's already safe in the Vale, and it's not like we can force her without trouble, we won't get passed the Bloody Gate."

"Then we just let her go? You think she had a hand in Jon Arryn's death and you suggest that we let her go?" Robert asked, rage growing even more.

"For now," Ned responded shortly. "You must gather evidence. Who are her closest friends in King's Landing?"

Robert thought again before responding, "Lord Baelish."

Ned held back a smile before responding, "you can question him secretively, see what he knows. You shouldn't let anyone know you are investigating them."

"Aye," Robert responded.

"You should also question Maester Pycelle," Ned said after pretending to think. "My own Maester saved a young man from posion, surely your Maester should have been able to determine what was happening and do the same?"

He had to suppress a grin as he watched Roberts brain work. He didn't feel bad at all for manipulating him.

"When we get back to Kings Landing, I will interrogate Pycelle personally," Robert said, voice laced with venom.

"We?" he responded.

"I need you Ned. In ten minutes, you've given me two leads into the death of Jon where my loyal advisors could only give me apologies and sympathies."

"Look what you've done hear in the North and imagine what you could do for the rest of the kingdom," he continued. "You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together. If your sister had lived, we would have been bound by blood already. It's not to late, I have a son, you have a daughter the same age. We will join our houses."

That wasn't happening. He snarled despite himself. "I accept on one condition," he said. This part of the plan had always been the same. If Jon Aaryn still died, he would still go to King's Landing. Part of him still wanted Arya to come too, maybe being a heartless assassin wasn't half bad.

"She will not be betrothed to your son."

Robert glared at him but nodded all the same. He needed him more than he needed Joffery to be betrothed to Sansa, and as much as he didn't like it, he always had Domeric in his back pocket. "Fine," he said, "but you have to get me one of those hybrids Benjen was riding."

"I don't think you'd fit," Ned replied. They roared with laughter together, and for a moment, he forgot all his worries, they were boys again, laughing and joking in the Eyrie.

* * *

A/N: So I based Ned's rebuilding of the North based on a discussion I had in a book club about the region in college. One of my peers had suggested that if their was a naval threat to stop raids and generally make people feel safer along the western cost, then the North might be a bit more populated. I paired that with fact that roughly 100,000 people would migrate from North the Wall and it sort of came together. Hopefully it all makes sense. I hope I answered some of your questions you all have had. If not, I hope I can answer them more in the future.

Again, let me know what you think. Until next time!

Edit: If you see this note, its because I noticed a small mistake that I didn't see in my rush to edit this. Thought you could use the laugh haha.


	4. Jon I

A/N: Again, I just wanted to thank you all for the response. It's been highly motivating.

* * *

Jon

Jon Snow had never felt like a bastard. Why would he? Lady Stark had treated him like her own son, raising him just as he had her other children. His father, Lord Stark, had even taken him, along with Sansa, during the private times he spent tutoring Robb on how to be the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"You never know," he had joked when he asked him why, "You might be King one day. If you rule the Seven Kingdoms like I rule the North, the world might be a better place."

Still, on this night, he found himself happy to be a bastard. While his brothers and sisters were forced to sit among the royal family, Catelyn had told him sadly that he would be with younger squires that night. She had loved him like her own, but that had a limit, and appearances were very important to keep. She didn't want to disrespect the queen.

So instead of being prim and proper with his brothers and sisters, he got to fill his cup with great northern wine as much as he wanted, and even got to keep Ghost by his side and feed him scraps. He was certain his companions were way more entertaining than the king's children. He had satisfied his curiosity about the visitors when they made their entrance.

Queen Cersei was beautiful, of course, as all the men said but she seemed like she enjoyed wearing a fake smile as much as she enjoyed wearing a crown or the Lannister Lion stitched in front of the Baratheon stag on her dress.

Next had come King Robert with Lady Stark on his arm. It was a cruel thought, but he was glad to not have ever met Jon Arryn. Then he wouldn't be disappointed by his namesake as he was sure Robb was. The men told stories of the demon of the Trident, all he saw was a fat man, entirely too sweaty, who drank too much wine and gave woman not his wife way too much attention. He suddenly felt bad for the queen. It passed quickly as he saw the look of boredom upon her face.

Rickon was next. He was six and held much more confidence than any normal six year old. He had been with a training sword in his hands since he was three, like the rest of them had been, and his wildness bought something unique to the training yard. He was as wild as his wolf, Shaggy, so it was odd watching him trying to be so tame.

Robb came strutting down the isle next, dressed in Stark colors, with Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was twelve, would be a beauty like her mother and didn't seem to be as vain. Jon noticed the shy looks and blush that crept upon her fact as she stared at Robb and chuckled silently to himself. Robb was oblivious to it all.

Sansa politely held onto Prince Joffery as the two entered the room next. He was a couple of years older than her, but Sansa didn't seem to be as enamored as Joffrey thought she was. Everyone knew that she was practically betrothed Domeric, which meant that Prince Joffrey's charm did nothing to her, but she was the perfect Lady, so she hid it well. He had heard his sister complain about the prospect of walking with him earlier. Jon was glad. Joffrey was just a vain as the Queen but with none of the tact.

Arya's eyes screamed for help as she walked down with Tommen. He knew she would rather be anywhere else in the world but there, walking down that isle, but they also both knew she didn't have a choice.

The Queen's brothers were the next two people to enter the room, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp, the men had called them. Ser Jamie was Queen Cersei's twin, and wore a smile that cut like a knife to a normal man. He didn't scare Jon. Ser Arthur always called Jamie a coward, Jon would do the same.

Uncle Benjen came down next with his own daughter and son, and he was much more interested seeing them again that the other Lannisters. His wife was too far along with their third child to make the trip.

Marna and William Stark were giants compared to normal kids their age. Father had arranged for a marriage between Benjen and Sarra of house Crowl from Skagos. It had helped integrate Skagos in the mainland and brought trade and unicorn breeding to the rest of the North. It was said that the Skagosi people had giants' blood so Sarra was a rather tall woman but still was beautiful in her own ways.

Her children were large as well. Marna, who at five and ten, like Sansa, had grown taller than her father and was a ferocious fighter. Ser Arthur said that she was easily better than anyone else around her age except Rob and himself. They didn't see her much though, she preferred to stay at Moat Cailin with uncle Benjen and help him train the men. She walked by and winked at him, all the features of a Stark but the size of a Skagosi woman.

William, on the other hand, was practically Bran's twin. He had been fostered at Winterfell since he was five, and they did everything together from training with a sword to climbing around Winterfell. Well Bran climbed, William usually kept watch, he feared heights, but if anybody accused him of it, he would try to wrestle them. He escorted his sister gracefully and happily rushed to Bran's side at the head table.

The last of the nobles was Theon Greyjoy but he didn't get along with him as similar as they were. They both wanted to be a part of the pack but didn't really feel like they belonged. As much as father and Catelyn had tried, it was still obvious to him that he was a bastard just like he was sure it was obvious to Theon that he was a prisoner.

Jon had started drinking then, when he started to think those awful thoughts, and he had not stopped. He felt something nudge against his leg beneath the table and knew instantly that Ghost was probably hungry again. With the way the direwolves ate, he was surprised that his father could afford to feed them, but then again, Eddard Stark was the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

Most wouldn't know it by looking at him though. Jon's father really didn't spend gold unless it was necessary. Eddard Stark wasn't the type of man to believe in luxury, and while he did allow Catelyn her silk wrapped furs, he was a very plain man. Jon watched, over the years, as his father chose to spend money on improving the defenses of Winterfell, and rebuilding things like Moat Calin and the Northern Fleet instead of luxuries.

"Is that one of the direwolves I've heard so much of?" a familiar voice called out to him, interrupting his thoughts.

Jon looked up happily as uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. "Yes," he slurred. "His name is Ghost."

Benjen laughed, "You've been drinking!"

Jon just shrugged and Benjen laughed. A moment of silence passed in between them, and he sat with his uncle quietly. Finally, his uncle spoke again, "What is this I hear about you wanting to join the Nights Watch?"

Jon almost groaned, not this again, but instead he decided to respond with some cheek "It's honorable, and if I'm good enough I'll be able to be a soldier in your army instead."

"Moat Cailin isn't a place for children," Benjen sighed.

"Marna is there," Jon snorted, wanting to laugh at the hypocrisy.

"Marna lives there as the daughter of the Lord Commander of the Moat," Benjen responded. "Sure, she gets to train, but at the end of the night she goes back to her big comfy bed with her stuffed wolf she got as a baby."

"She wouldn't appreciate you telling me that," Jon responded.

"That's not the point," Benjen explained. "The men at Cailin train all day. Most of them sleep in cramped camps and spend most of their time cleaning up horse shit and watching swamps most of the day. It's not fun."

The structure of Moat Cailin was something his father had only put in place once after he made sure the Watch had enough men to rebuild and man all of its castles. Jon only knew the plans because his father had explained it all to them during his and Sansa's lessons with Robb.

First, father had been petitioning all of the other lords of the realm to send him their criminals for the wall. Most of the Southern Lords didn't see the point, so once his father had gained enough coin from trade, he offered to pay for any trips that bought men to the wall. Once the Nights Watch had enough men to man all of its castles, and their numbers once again rose to those of its glory days, the second part of the plan was put into affect.

The second phase of that plan was more complicated. His father had made sure that the Watch had enough men to man all of the castles along the Wall before he put it into action. The Wall was always the first priority for him.

Now instead of being sent immediately to the wall, criminals first stop had been Cailin, where they would undergo vigorous training before being sent to the wall. Criminals were always sent to the wall but volunteers had a chance. They would go to the Moat, they would train, but Benjen only kept the elite. Those who weren't good enough were offered the choice of going to the wall or being sent home. If they went home, his bannermen had trained men to serve them, if they went to the Wall, the Watch was better for it.

"You're not coming to Moat Calin Jon," Benjen sighed but his voice was firm. "Your father will not allow you to volunteer, and if he does, I won't allow you to volunteer. I have final say and right now, the Lords of the North are sending me enough men."

"Ser Arthur says I'm the best," Jon responded.

"Ser Arthur has always been biased when it comes to you," Benjen responded but before Jon had the change to say anything, he had already continued. "Why are you so eager to make your life so hard? Your father loves you. Catelyn treats you like her own. Robb and you do everything together. Sansa and Arya adore you. Bran, William and Rickon look up to you."

Jon really didn't know the answer to that. All of it was true. Still, he felt like he was missing something, like he didn't belong. He felt anger and sadness rise inside him, and tears start to form in his eyes. Suddenly, he could feel the whole table looking at him, and pushed himself to his feet.

Before he knew it, he found himself hacking and slashing at a training dummy in the yard. It was his favorite thing to do when he needed to calm himself. The sounds of music and laughter spilling through the open window behind him spurred his anger and pushed him farther, faster.

"Your form is shit," a voice cut through the air. He knew who it was but didn't want the man to see the tears that had been falling. He stopped swinging all the same.

"What would that pretty redhead from the Wolfswood think if she saw you flinging that sword recklessly?"

He scoffed. Everybody always teased him about having a crush on Ygritte. She was a wildling from a keep not to far from Winterfell. The keep was called Bonehold after the Lord of Bones who had resided as Lord of the castle. It was a small keep, where the people that lived there spent most of the time harvesting and transporting the pine around them for ships for Sea Dragon Point.

When Jon stayed silent, Ser Arthur continued to talk. "I hear that you and I will be traveling to the Moat soon."

"They won't let me; I have to stay here and be a prisoner my whole life," Jon muttered darkly.

"Is that how you truly feel? A prisoner?"

Jon shook his head. Ser Arthur had a way of making him feel small.

"Trust me Jon, the world isn't as great as the men say it is. There are a lot of worst places we could be right now," Ser Arthur responded.

"Why do you care?" Jon spat back angrily, his front still facing the training dummy.

"I made a promise to your father and mother long ago," the knight spoke softly this time. "I would be your sworn shield and protect you against all harm until my dying breath. I intend to keep that promise. I will not fail you like I failed them."

Jon wasn't sure what came over him, but suddenly he found himself saying the words he always thought but never said.

He was quiet at first, but grew more confident as he talked and turned to the knight, "my mother was your sister, wasn't she? Ashara Dayne. That's why you follow me around during your free time. You and father took me from her, and in the end she couldn't take it so she jumped from that tower. You never told me because –"

He never finished the thought. He found himself lifted by his collar and thrown through the training dummy, before he was ragged again and pressed against the cold stone of the wall. Ghost leap to his feet and growled. Ser Arthur stared down at him, fury in his eyes.

"Don't you ever speak on my sister again," he growled, and Jon nodded. He found himself back on the ground with fresh tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he called out softly to a retreating Arthur.

Arthur stopped and sighed, "meet me in the crypt tomorrow night. I will tell you about your mother." He then stomped off, back toward the feast. Jon was confused. Why the crypt?

He stood alone, cold in the snow for a couple more moment before another voice called out to him.

"Boy," it said. He turned. It was the Imp, but he didn't feel like talking anymore.

* * *

A/N: So there it is. In this Story, men fell to the Others. So I thought it would make sense for Ned to prioritize the watch first, and then once that was done, he would turn his attention to making a strong army for obvious reasons. He is preparing for war, the fun part is that not many people (those who do should be obvious by now but I'd love to hear your guesses) know about it. Let me know what you think! Arya is next.


	5. Catelyn II

A/N: I know I said this one would be Arya, but I forgot about Catelyn haha. We will definitely be getting to her next. Followed by another Ned chapter I think. Enjoy.

* * *

Catelyn

"I already told him I was coming," Ned said as her turned back to her, voice cracking, and haunted. Like thousands of times before, he had opened her windows and let the cold air of the North into her bedchambers.

"Please don't," Catelyn responded, tone almost begging. "You are needed in the North. Winter is coming. You have convinced me of that."

"Is it?" Ned questioned. He doubted himself now. He was always so confident that they had to prepare for Winter. Now he wasn't so sure. "I've taken their army."

"Yet men still dessert the Watch," Catelyn responded. "That man still ran. He told you what he saw."

Ned sighed, "We have time. When they do come, I will need to make sure that all of Westeros rises to meet them."

"How will you do that?" Catelyn asked.

She heard him sigh again and he opened his mouth before he closed it. "I don't know." She knew it was a lie, he did have a plan but wasn't telling her. Sometimes, she could tell he was hiding something.

"He will die down there without me," Ned finally spoke. She scoffed. While she was sure that Ned once held King Robert in high regard, she was confident that it was no longer the case. Would he be sad if the man died? Probably, but saving him wasn't the main priority. It never was.

"So, you go to King Landing to keep Robert alive on the throne and hopefully convince him that the whispers of the others are true?"

"Aye," Ned responded solemnly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You are lying to me," she said simply.

He finally turned to her, questions dancing on his tongue, but she spoke first. " I know something that they do not Ned. I know your secrets. You say that you prepare the North because winter is coming, and while I do believe you, don't pretend that that is all you have prepared the North for."

There it was. She had finally said what she had the sense to see over the years. He was preparing for war. That much was obvious but it was odd. He was using his reputation as an honorable man to shield his intentions from the realm. Unless you knew about Jon, how he had raised the boy, as unsure as he was sometimes, then she could see why others thought that this was a man just trying to make life better for his people.

"My goal has always been winter Catelyn," Ned responded suddenly tired. "Robert is not the same boy I grew up with. He isn't fit to be King."

The words were treason, and had she been a different person, in a different life she would have said as much but she knew he spoke true. The Southern Lords, even her own father, paid little attention to the North after the rebellion. Ned paid all the attention in the world to the south.

"So how will you remove him," she asked and when he shook his head, she pleaded, "let me help."

"Just trust me."

A knock came at that moment interrupting it all.

"Yes Desmond?" Ned called out, and Catelyn paused when that exact man responded. Of course, he knew, he always knew.

"My lord, Maester Luwin and Ser Arthur beg an urgent audience," he said sounding surprised. They heard a shuffling outside the door. Ser Arthurs voice followed angrily.

"Eddard, we need to talk. Now."

She watched as Eddard turned around with a genuine look of confusion on his face. He hadn't expected Ser Arthur to be there. They both quickly dressed in robes and called for their two visitors. Ser Arthur practically stormed through the doors, with Maester Luwin walking calmly behind him, and was obviously furious.

"This facade has gone on long enough," Ser Arthur began angrily. "I will tell Jon the truth and I don't care what you think. I'm only telling you to give you a proper warning. You should be there."

She saw a pained expression fix itself to Ned's face and he sighed. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, to comfort him but it wouldn't be proper. Not now.

Instead she spoke, "What happened?"

Ser Arthur immediately calmed and spoke softer, "I think it was the wine. He told me that he thought my sister was her mother. That she jumped because we stole him from her."

He turned to Ned, a cold hard look upon his face. "I won't allow it Ned. I won't allow the disrespect on my sister's memory."

Catelyn wanted to go to the man, to comfort him like the friend he had grown to be but Ned beat him to it. "I'm sorry," he told Ser Arthur.

An awkward silence passed between them all as the truth hung over their heads. No one knew why Ashara had jumped off that tower. Ser Arthur, even after all these years, had blamed himself. He chose the vow he made to Rhaeger over remaining in Starfell to make sure his sister was okay, and it turned out she wasn't.

Ned told her the truth about him and Ashara. He even told her that he thought the stillborn she had was his from Harrenhal. She had forgiven him for that. Brandon was still alive. In another life perhaps Brandon would have lived, and she would still have married him and Ned, her Ned, would be with Ashara. She couldn't fathom it.

"We should tell him the truth," Catelyn spoke softly. That had always been her belief. Now that Jon was old enough, she was sure that he could handle it, that he would keep that secret until the time was right

"Aye," Arthur spoke solemnly.

Eddard sighed. "And then what? What if he decides that he wants to be King? What if he still decides that he doesn't want to stay here anymore and chooses to seek out his family? Aemon at the wall, Visery's and Daenery's in Essos, what then?"

He was still keeping up this facade. His plan was to put Jon on the throne. It wasn't spoken, it didn't need to be. She knew that, and she was sure that Arthur had known it too.

"Then I will go with him," Arthur challenged. "I will protect him as I swore to Rhaegar and Lyanna all those years ago. He is my King, the rightful King of the Iron Throne. I will follow him wherever he may go."

"We will tell him," Eddard said and then he spoke cryptically, "I once promised him that the next time we spoke I would tell him the truth. I never kept that promise. I plan to now."

Catelyn wasn't sure what he was talking about but nodded in agreement. Family. Duty. Honor. In that order. He was family, and no matter the danger, he should know.

A moment passed between the four of them, and it surprised her that Maester Luwin had been quiet through it all. Ned finally turned to Luwin with a mischievous smirk on his face, "You have a box for me?"

Luwin stared at him blankly for him for a moment before shaking his head, "for Lady Catelyn actually."

"Yes, a lens to help us see more clearly," Ned added.

"How do you know?" Arthur asked confused.

Ned said the same thing he always said, "I dreamt it."

"You northerners are an odd bunch," Ser Arthur responded.

Ned smiled, but ignored the remark. "My love I believe the letter is for you."

Luwin reached out to give it to her. She immediately read it and took it to the fire.

"What is it?" Ned had asked, voice showing concern. This, above all, frustrated her about him. Sometimes she could tell he was being genuine, others she wasn't sure if he already knew what she was going to say but still let her say it.

"I don't know everything," he had told her once. She was beginning to doubt that.

"You tell me," she responded, staring at him.

He laughed. "I really don't know."

She had her doubts.

She spoke softly, fear from what she read etched in her voice. "It was from Lysa. She says Jon Arryn was murdered by the Lannisters."

She hadn't expected Ned to sigh at her. "Catelyn do you remember when I told you to get a cup bearer for all of our food and drink?" he asked her. She nodded. "Not much later that boy was poisoned. Did you remember what I did?"

"You gave him," Catelyn started but Ned shook his head. She thought about it and remembered. "You sent a letter to King Robert and Jon. You told them to get them as well."

"Robert told me that it was Lysa who convinced Jon Arryn that I was being paranoid, and that they didn't need them. Then he mysteriously gets sick and dies."

She felt her own anger rising and spoke harshly, "What are you saying?"

"I know it's hard to hear," Ned responded firmly, "but she is a suspect. King Robert will be investigating his death. Her letter trying to blame the Lannisters could just be her trying to divert the attention to someone else."

"Have you dreamt that too?" she spat at him.

"No," he responded quickly. "I don't know what happened to Jon. I want to find out as much as anyone, but you know what they say about Kings Landing. You can't trust anyone."

"Not even family?" she asked, still glaring deeply at him.

"I'm not accusing your sister of anything," he stated. "I'm just saying that we won't know until we investigate and until than we cannot trust anything or anyone. It's probably nothing. She probably doesn't know anything."

She nodded. She was still angry, but Ned would think what he thought unless he was proven wrong. She just hoped that Lysa would never find out she was being investigated; it would ruin their already strained relationship.

"It is why I must accept King Robert's offer," Ned continuted. "I will go to the capital and find out what happened to Jon. You must stay here with Robb. I'm confident that everything I taught him will leave him capable of ruling the North in my stead, but he will need all of your advice."

"What of the other children?"

Ned paused and stared at her hard. His eyes pierced her own and it seemed like he was having a massive internal struggle. "Rickon will stay here with Robb and Jon. Ser Arthur, keep training them. Make sure they are sharp."

Ser Arthur nodded, and Eddard paused again. He sighed, defeated.

"Sansa will stay here but we must find a reason," Ned sighed, "if not Robert will want me to take her with me so that Joffrey has a chance to court her."

"He still might want Sansa to go," Catelyn stated her fears. "Announce a betrothal with Domeric, maybe that will stop him from wanting her?"

"No, I told her that she was to young to be betrothed to Joffrey, announcing a betrothal to Domeric won't go over well but will ask Domeric to come as well," Ned responded. There was confidence in his eyes. It was like he knew something no one else did. "Theon too. Yes, Domeric can guard Sansa and Theon will guard Arya."

"No," Catelyn replied. "Ask Benjen for Marna. Theon and Arya always clash. I would trust Marna more. They get along."

"Marna will not enjoy the south," Ned replied.

"Please," Catelyn begged.

"I'll talk to Benjen about it and ask her. If she does not want to come, I will not force her, but Theon will still come. It would be good for the heir to the Iron Islands to be apart of court. It could go farther to improve relations with Lord Balon."

"You already give him much more than he deserves," Catelyn responded talking about the toll the northern trade ships paid to pass the waters near the Iron Islands safely so that they could trade with the West and Reach.

"I need them all Catelyn," Ned responded firmly before moving on. "Bran will come as well. He can squire for a knight. That's what he always wanted. He deserves to get what he wanted."

"William won't be happy," Catelyn said.

"William won't be happy, or you won't be happy?" Ned responded.

Catelyn frowned. The answer to that was obvious. The gods knew she did not want Bran or Arya to leave her, but she would endure because she knew while Ned was away her other children would need her.

* * *

A/N: Arya is next. Let me know what you think here.


	6. Arya I

A/N: I meant to post this Sunday, but I got distracted. Anyway, again, so grateful for all the response. Appreciate it all.

* * *

Arya's stitches were straighter than usual. Mother had threatened her that she would take away her sword lessons if she didn't stop giving Septa Mordane so much grief. They still weren't as good as Sansa's, but that didn't matter. There wasn't a competition between her and Sansa.

She just didn't understand why she had to be here. They didn't make Marna do needlework. She got to train in the yard as much as she wanted. Mother did tell her to steer clear while the King was here, but it wasn't fair. Why couldn't she be in the yard?

Princess Myrcella was present, which made her happy. Not because she liked the girl, or anything like that, but because it meant Septa Mordane wouldn't be paying much attention to her. The other girls seemed to be taking advantage of that as well, as they were chatting away, with only Sansa being skilled enough to stitch and talk.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked curiously, interrupting their hushed whispers. "Tell me," she demanded when they just gave her awkward glances and stupid giggles. Sansa responded to her first.

"We were talking about the prince," she said her voice soft, yet her eyes rolled. Arya grinned a goofy smile at her but still found herself annoyed. Of course, they were talking about Joffrey. All anybody in this stupid castle was talking about was the royal family lately. She was growing tired of it.

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, with a proud smile on her face, "he told her she was very beautiful."

"She is beautiful," Arya responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Boys shouldn't get complimented for stating the obvious. "Besides, Sansa doesn't like him, everyone knows she wants to marry Dom."

"Arya!" Sansa had the grace to blush. Arya looked back at her, expression challenging her to deny her claims. She didn't.

"Well," little Beth Cassel said, "Dom has some competition. Joffrey wants to make your sister his queen."

Sansa shook her head, "Beth you shouldn't make up stories," and turned her attention back to Arya, "what do you think of the prince, sister?"

Arya didn't really have enough time spent with the boy to answer that, so she went with that she was told, "Jon says he looks like a girl."

Sansa smiled, and thought about it for a moment, "He does, doesn't he?"

"Sansa!" Jeyne responded, a little too loudly but Arya had already laughed. Septa Mordane raised her eyes and Sansa placated her with a bright smile.

"What are you talking about, children?" she still asked.

"Arya and I were commenting on how wonderful it is to have the princess with us today," Sansa smiled more. Arya gave her a thankful nod. She didn't have to include her. Her relationship with Sansa wasn't always the greatest. They didn't always get along, but they had come to an understanding a while ago. It was the same night that Arya found herself sneaking out, down to the training yard and saw that Sansa was already there, practicing her bow.

"What are you doing," Arya had asked her, surprising her in the dead of night.

Her older sister had paused for a moment, not sure to say. When she finally did speak, she spoke with the grace and poise that everyone had come to expect from her, "father says that even ladies should know how to defend themselves. She won't admit it, but I know it upsets mother, so I practice in secret, so she doesn't know."

Arya nodded dumbly, and Sansa turned to fasten another arrow. She drew it clumsily and let loose. The arrow struck the target, barely. It rose above where she was aiming, and had the target been a little farther, it would have missed completely over the top.

"You're holding it wrong," Arya said quietly before shuffling over to her. "Here, let me help."

"Arya," Septa Mordane spoke brining her back to the present and away from the fond memory, "Why aren't you working?"

She wanted to scream. The Septa had caught her daydreaming, and had already risen to her feet, to look at her work. The Septa examined the stitches and frowned, "it's not as bad as it normally is, you have shown some improvement."

Arya smiled up at her. "That means I can go?"

She had pushed herself out of her chair and ran for the door before the Septa could even respond. She heard the shouts of the Septa calling after her, but she was already halfway down the stairs, untying Nymeria and running towards the training yard. Robb and Joffrey were supposed to spar today. She wouldn't miss it for the world.

She found her spot, a window with a view on a bridge that covered the whole yard only to see that her brother Jon, had already taken it. Ghost, the runt of the litter who had grown larger than them all, noticed them first and greeted Nymeria with a soft nip on her ear, before rubbing his face against hers.

Jon finally looked at her and shook his head and she just shrugged, "I wanted to see them fight."

He smiled and patted the spot next to him and she climbed up to see the yard. To her disappointment, it was the younger boys drilling. Prince Tommen was so heavily padded he looked like a round ball while Bran had on normal padding and was practically running circles around the boy.

A half a dozen spectators all called out encouragement, mostly from the Prince's side. Robb, and Theon Greyjoy beside him, remained mostly silent, no doubt confident in Bran's abilities under Ser Arthur and Ser Rodrick.

The differences were obvious for anyone with eyes. All the boys in the Stark family had training swords in their hands as soon as they were three and were trained by Ser Arthur, famed Sword of the Morning. Prince Tommen looked like he barely ever picked up a sword in his life.

"Brans' not talking this seriously," Arya commented, and Jon nodded.

"You don't miss anything, do you?" Jon responded as he ruffled her hair. "I'm sure Ser Rodrick told them to hold back, we don't want to embarrass our Princes, do we?"

"Is that why you aren't down there?" Arya asked.

Jon laughed. "Mother thought it be best that I wasn't there. Men like me aren't allowed to hurt men like the princes."

"Oh," Arya said. She should have known. Life wasn't fair.

She watched Bran whack Tommen a few times before he finally knocked the boy down. It was a funny sight, seeing the prince rolling around on his back like that. Bran was standing above him, with the grace not to look as bored as Arya felt.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik called out and helped the prince back to his feet. "Bran help our prince out of his armor, will you?"

"Of course, Ser Rodrik," Bran answered politely and gave a slight bow. Rodrik turned his attention to Robb and Joffrey.

"Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb, who had looked like he had barely done anything all day, moved forward eagerly. "Gladly," he called out, moving to get ready.

Joffrey moved to respond to Rodrik, He looked bored. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Robb glared at him, but Theon spoke first, mirth in his voice. "You are a child," he said. The northerners present laughed, it seemed to make Joffrey angry.

"I am a prince," he growled back at Theon before turning cocky, "besides, I grow tired at swatting at Starks with a play sword."

Robb laughed, a deep laugh from his belly. "You swatted at air. You couldn't touch me. Just admit that you are afraid and move on."

"Terrified," Joffery deadpanned as his men behind him roared with laughter. Arya could see Robb's anger building. This would not be good. "You're so much older," Joffrey, added now openly mocking Robb, and his men cheered him on.

Ser Arthur spoke up. "What are you suggesting, my Prince?"

"Live steel."

She saw Robb smile at the prince, "Done."

Ser Rodrik looked like he was about to decline before Ser Arthur stepped forward and handed Robb a steel blade. "If the prince wants live steel, the prince gets live steel."

He then turned to Robb and whispered something in his ear.

"What do you think he said," Arya asked Jon.

Jon shrugged, "Probably not to take it easy anymore. Look they are starting."

Sure enough, they two boys had begun to circle each other. Joffrey grew tired of waiting, and wildly swung his sword in Robb's direction. Robb parried it easily before spinning to kick the prince in the back of the knee. Joffrey crumpled to the ground immediately. No one dared laugh now.

Robb was clearly enjoying himself and laughed loudly, now openly mocking Prince Joffrey. "Tell me that was not your best? Get up your Grace, show me your claws."

Prince Joffrey raced to his feet and began to swing wildly again. Robb danced around him with grace, laughing and jesting the whole way. Robb defended himself easily, and it was obvious to all that Robb was toying with the Prince. He didn't try to hide it like Bran did with Tommen.

Ser Arthur said that Robb and Jon were the best swordsmen in the North, that if father had let them travel south and fight in tourneys, they would win many and be just as famous as Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.

"Enough, Robb," Ser Arthur called out seriously. "End it."

Suddenly, Robb had parried another strike and bashed Joffrey with the pummel of his sword in the nose. Blood gushed out and Joffrey dropped his sword to cover his face, so Robb again swept his feet but this time he pointed his sword at the Prince. "Yield," he called out coldly.

A lot happened at once. She saw Joffrey's hound rush forward with his sword drawn at Robb, and Ser Arthur responded with narrowed eyes, stepping in front of them. She heard a loud shriek as the Queen herself rushed the yard and pushed Robb out of the way. She heard the loud booming voice of the King.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

The entire yard quieted then. Robb had the grace to look ashamed at his actions. Arya didn't think he should be, after all the Prince did ask for it.

"Your grace," Arthur spoke first with a bowed head, "Prince Joffrey grew tired of practice swords and wanted to try live steel. We couldn't refuse the Prince's request."

"That doesn't give that savage," the Queen yelled pointing at Robb, "an excuse to bloody my son. I want him punished."

The air thickened then, as even father who had been standing next to the King seemed to stop breathing. It all dissipated when the King laughed loud and boisterously.

"Quiet woman," King Robert called out. "Our son asked for live steel, all he got was a taste of his own medicine. Maybe you should teach the boy ask for things only when he is ready."

Queen Cersei scowled at him and went to say more before father spoke, "No, your grace. The Queen is correct. Perhaps I should teach my own son how to show more restraint."

Arya gulped as she watched her father's eyes glare at Robb. Robb hung his head in shame.

"No matter," the King ignored him. "It's good to see my namesake can fight. Maybe we should leave Joffrey and Tommen here for a couple of moons so Ser Arthur can teach them as well."

Father stared at him blankly, but quickly recovered with a huge smile. "Leaving Joffrey here probably would not be a good idea. He and Robb obviously don't get along. However, Tommen, Bran, and my nephew, they get along just fine. Winterfell would be honored to foster a Prince."

Queen Cersei went to speak but the King spoke first. "Consider it done. My boy will stay here and grow up with your son and nephew. It will be good for him."

Arya laughed loudly at the look on the Queen's face. She looked as if she had been struck. Her father placated her with nice words. Arya scoffed. Father was going out of his way to be nice to the Queen for whatever reason. She didn't think the Queen deserved it. They all saw how she walked about the place with disdain. She didn't like it here, and they didn't like her either.

"Queen Cersei," father spoke again, "let me escort you and the prince to my Maester."

Cersei nodded, and soon the yard had cleared except for one person. Arya gulped. Suddenly her mothers' blue eyes were staring up at them, her face fixed with a frown. Arya shuddered; she was in trouble now.

* * *

A/N: A lot happens here. Tell me what you think.


	7. Ned II

A/N: When I started to write this, a couple of months ago, I wrote it like this. I started with the big moments that I wanted the story to lead up too, and then figured out how I would piece it together to get to those moments. This was the first of those moments, and I'm glad we are here. I hope you all continue to enjoy what ideas I have to bring to the topic. As always, reviews are welcome.

* * *

The crypts were a dimly lit place. Of all the rebuilding he had begun in Winterfell, the crypts had been last. The first was the broken tower, which he had restored almost immediately. Then he worked, or the giants worked, on making the walls higher and thicker. He needed his home impenetrable for when Winter came.

Still, the crypts had been last. He wanted to honor his ancestors by restoring some of the older statues, and who knew what kind of treasures were hidden in the crypt the deeper one went. He decided he would try to repair the statues of that were repairable, and for those who weren't, he would see if there were any portraits of any of the deceased lords in the library or throughout the castle he could use to build new ones.

Workers had started to clear some of it, and make parts long lost accessible but it was a long process. It was said that non Starks felt haunted in this place, like the ghost of winters past had haunted all those without the blood of the ancient Kings of the North. Some men ran out of the crypts quickly and swore to the gods never to return. Some never had a problem at all.

The shadows dancing against let him know that Robb and Jon were close. His vision followed suit when he saw Ghost, and then Grey Wind. Lyarra yelped affectionately at her two pups, before getting up to nuzzle them gently. She growled sternly when they tried to escape the cleaning her tongue tried to give. He had to smile at that, as ferocious as she pretended to be, she was forever a mother.

Like good little children the two pups sat still and let her clean them for a while. She then nodded her head when she was done, and Ghost took off, nose to the ground searching deeper within the crypts. Grey Wind waited dutifully for Robb, and Lyarra returned to Catelyn's side, lying down at her feet. His wolf knew how much his wife had meant to him.

He had sent Robb to get Jon, deciding that his heir should know the truth as well. Long after he was gone, he had hoped the two would work together, leading to a long period of peace in the realm. He wanted stories and songs to be written about his children, and if all went as planned, then they would be.

Robb and Jon followed quickly after their wolves, and like Lyarra, Catelyn quickly fussed over them. She embraced them both with motherly hugs and kissed either of their cheeks. She spent some extra time on Jon. Direwolves and humans; they weren't really all that different.

"Your embarrassing them Cat," Benjen chuckled easily. Of course his brother would be here for this. In his previous life, Ned hadn't been able to sway Benjen from not joining the watch. He nearly failed again this time. What kept him was the truth about Jon. He never told anyone but Howland in his last life, telling Catelyn and Benjen changed everything in this one.

He told Benjen that one day Jon would be King, and that he would need his brothers help ascending their sister's son to the throne, and Benjen was immediately in. It was largely do his efforts that the North had well trained men ready for war.

These are my boys," Catelyn spoke possessively, again turned to Jon and cupping his face softly. "Nothing will ever change that, you hear?" Jon smiled warmly at her and nodded. It made Ned smile as well. Telling Catelyn was the right thing to do.

He turned silently and prayed to his sister's grave, hoping that she would give him a sign, some sort of gesture that this was the right thing to do.

"It's warmer in here than I remember," Jon said. "I never felt like I belonged before, but now… now its different."

It was the sign he needed. He smiled brightly at his nephew.

"Ser Arthur and Benjen tell me you wish to join the Watch," Ned said plainly. There was no point of stalling any longer. It was time.

"Aye," Jon replied confidently. "A Stark had always been present at Winterfell, just like there has always been a Stark at the Wall. I'd like to be that Stark."

He sighed. Both Robb and Jon were still to honorable. Honor got him killed, and when it was time, he hoped that they remembered the lesson he taught them. There is no honor in war, only victory at the least cost possible.

"I cannot let you do that," Ned responded. "Your mother would haunt me from this grave," he stepped aside and pointed to his sister.

Many emotions danced across Jon's face. Sorrow. Sadness. Confusion, but the worst was anger. "You lied to me," he shouted.

"Quiet down," Ser Arthur stated. "While I doubt any have followed you, this information is best if known by the few."

"They lied to us all," Robb said, putting a reassuring hand on Jon's shoulder. "Here they have taught us about honor all our lives, and have been holding secrets the entire time."

He had expected Jon to be upset, but never did he think Robb will follow suit. He found himself smiling again, they were still as thick as thieves.

Catelyn defended him. "You both have to understand, Robert did not give the orders directly to kill Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, but he didn't deliver justice to the men that did either. He laughed when your father called for justice. They weren't babies to him, but dragonspawn."

"What," Jon whispered, slowly coming to grips with what Catelyn had said. "Rhaegar Targaryen is my father? NO! He raped her, he kidnapped her and stole her from her family. He cannot be my father."

"My best friend did nothing of the sort," Arthur chided Jon. "This is the last time I will say is, lower your voice. I understand this is hard for you, but you have the realize the danger you would put us all in if anybody outside those doors heard you."

Ned was confident they wouldn't be heard. They were far enough in the crypts to where their conversation couldn't be heard past the thick doors, and he already had Lyarra scout the place. They were alone.

"I was there," Ser Arthur continued. "Lyanna, your mother, she didn't want to marry Robert Baratheon. He was then what he is now, a drunk fool who was willing to fuck anything that walked past him. Rumor said he already had a bastard in the Vale by the time she was set to marry him. She didn't want that life. I heard her say it myself."

"Robert was my friend Jon," Ned added, "but imagine if I bought him to you with the truth. The woman he loved with a son by the man he hated. He would have ordered your murder happily. I would have had to go to a war I wasn't prepared for."

"So that is what this is?" Robb asked. "Everything you have done for the North. The gold, the Wall, Moat Cailin, everything was all to prepare for war?"

He didn't see a reason to lie. "Yes," he said simply.

"You would raise your banners for me?" Jon replied, a shocked expression on his face.

"In a heartbeat," Ned knelt. "Robert is not the same boy I grew up with. I was too blinded by friendship back then to see it, but it is clear now. He has done nothing but bring the realm great debt while he hunts and whores. If I didn't suggest to my father that he marry Lyanna, maybe none of this would have happened. I promised her on her deathbed that I would protect you at all cost. If that means I would need to make you King so be it. I pledge my loyalty to you."

He didn't notice that Catelyn, Arthur, Benjen and Robb had knelt as well until he looked up. He glad that they supported him on this.

"What if I'm not ready," Jon asked, in a voice that was quiet. "What if I don't want it?"

Ned couldn't help but laugh. Somethings never changed. "Winter is coming Jon. I can feel it. I know you can sense the change in the air too. We have the blood of the Kings of Winter in us. When the snow falls the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. You, a son of ice and fire will lead us through any Winter that comes."

"We've prepared for this our whole lives," Robb added his voice. "Since we were boys we sat in that same solar and learned what it was like to rule. When father asked for our opinions, you always had the best answers. I know you would make a great King, and as future Warden of the North, I'd follow you in Winter."

"I'm confident in you," Benjen said simply. "You are Lyanna's son..."

"And Rhaegar's too," Arthur added. "He made some mistakes, I know this better than anyone, but he would have been a great King. So shall you."

Jon turned to Catelyn who spoke softly, tears in her eyes. "I love you. I admit it wasn't always that way, when Ned first bought you home I feared the worst but when he told me the truth I was heartbroken for you. I made a vow then to love you as your mother would have. I only want you to be safe and happy. If that means you want to go to the Wall then, I will not like it, but I would accept it because you would be happy but your destined for more than that Jon. I would gladly call you my King."

Tears filled his eyes, and he took a deep breathe to calm himself before they fell. "I won't make you fight your friend father but if the opportunity arises, and we ever needed it, I would do it. I will lead the pack through winter."

Ned nearly let out a sigh of relief. He knew this would be the first, but hardest part of his plan. He had to get Jon to agree to being King. The rest, the rest would be easy.

They were quiet for a moment, and he watched Jon process all his thoughts carefully, trying to decide when it was too much. Everything else could wait as far as he was concerned.

Suddenly, his face turned sour and he spat, "Armory Lorch and Gregor Clegane, they killed my family."

"Aye," Ser Arthur responded with the same vigor, "they did the deed but they did not give the order. It was Tywin Lannister that gave the order. Jamie Lannister promised Rhaegar that he would protect your two siblings, but he was too busy on that throne to give a damn."

"We will kill them brother," Robb turned to Jon seriously. "We will get revenge for what they have done to our family. This I promise you."

He watched proudly as the emotions came back to Jon's face.

"Brother," he questioned, this time unable to stop the tears from falling.

"Always," Robb responded fiercely, and grabbed his brother into a great hug. Catelyn moved to join them, but Ned put his hand out to stop her. They needed this moment, the two of them. This was the bond that would get them through winter. He was sure of it. Robb Stark, Warden of the North. Jon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms.

One of the saddest parts about Lyanna's passing is that she didn't get to name her own son. Ned had to do that for her, and chose a name that would cover his story. He doubted his sister would have named him Jon. He was sure it would have been something northern, because he knew Lyanna, but he doubt it would have been Jon.

Jon took two deep breaths and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Tell me everything," he said turning back to them, as Robb placed his hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"They really did love each other," Arthur spoke again before pausing to mull something over. "Your father Rhaegar was my best friend, but he wasn't perfect. I was there for it all. He believed in some sort of prophecy and always was talking about how the dragon needed three heads but Elia, gods bless her, could not have more children after Aegon and your father fell out of love."

"They met at the tournament at Harrenhal," Ned decided to continue. "Howland Reed had been bullied by thee squires no older than the two of you. Lyanna defended him and decided to enter herself into the tournament as a mystery knight to get revenge for Howland."

"The Knight of the Laughing tree they called her," Arthur added with a smile, remembering fondly the memory before taking over the story. "She got her revenge, but the mad King was livid, thinking that the tree that adorned her shield was laughing at him. He sent us to find her, and we did find her, only Rhaegar fell in love. He disposed her armor and told her to leave and speak nothing of it. When he won the tourney, he named her Queen of Love and Beauty. From that point forward they wrote each other often and decided to run away right before Catelyn and Brandon were to be married."

"I think she intended to not be seen running off with her. She intended to disappear quietly so that no one saw her, and they could live together happily ever after," Ned said. "It wasn't meant to be. We thought she was kidnapped. I didn't find out the truth until it was too late."

"They married soon after," Arthur said. "I witnessed it myself. When his father called him back to the capital, she was heart broken. She didn't want him to leave, she knew she was pregnant."

Arthur frowned at him then. "It was always so strange to me, during the middle of that fight, after you had defeated Ser Oswell and Ser Gerald, you just gave up. It was almost like you snapped out of a weird trance."

"I did," Ned responded. The old gods had chosen that moment to send him back. "There wasn't a reason to fight anymore. I knew the truth. I just wanted to see my sister one last time, no matter how brief."

"You knew it was the end for her?" Arthur questioned.

"Aye," Ned responded sadly. If Benjen having children was the best part about having a second chance, watching Lyanna die all over again knowing there was nothing he could do about it was the worst. The Old Gods were cruel.

Arthur looked at him with questioning eyes, and Ned knew for sure that it was the same question Arthur always had. Why during the middle of battle, why not tell them the truth before the bloodshed? "The gods willed it," he would respond, but Arthur never accepted that truth. He had never told anybody the complete truth about his first life, about the visions the Old Gods gave him about the lives of his children after he died the first time. He just gave slight hints, and information when he thought necessary.

A quiet and comfortable peace settled between them. Benjen broke the quiet.

"These items belonged to your parents," Benjen said pointing to a chest, Dark Sister sheathed on top of it. Jon immediately went to the sword and drew it from the old leather scabbard that held it.

"Dark Sister," Robb gasped. "It was supposed to be lost, how did Rhaegar find it?"

"Maester Aemon of the Nights Watch had it," Arthur responded. "How he received it, no one knows. He sent it to Rhaegar right before the battle of the Trident. Rhaegar was gone before it arrived. In the note, he wrote that it was the only way he had thought he could help his family."

"I don't like the pommel," Jon spoke up, "Do you think Mikken could make one that looks like Ghost? I'm more of a wolf, than dragon, father."

Aye," Ned responded and took off his own scabbard. He turned to Robb.

"Father?" Robb asked. "Are you sure?"

"You've worked hard my sons," Ned said, looking at both of his boys. "These swords signify that hard work, all the training you've done in the field and with Maester Luwin. If I didn't think you weren't both ready, I wouldn't have given them to you," he said and turned to Jon. "Jon I don't think I need to tell you to keep that blade hidden while the King is still here." Jon nodded.

"I think I'll stay a while, if that's okay?" Jon responded. He nodded and hugged him. As he let go he barely noticed the streak of white fly past him as ghost ran over to Jon and pulled at his pant leg seemingly wanting his master to follow him deeper into the crypts.

"What is it boy?" Jon asked, and Ghost took off again, catching the attention of Lyarra and Grey Wind. When he came back, he was pushing something slowly with his paw.

Ned heard Catelyn gasp, and soon he was gasping himself. It was as white as the fur on Ghost with small flecks of red that matched the direwolf's eyes. A dragon's egg. Maybe the Old Gods weren't so cruel after all.

* * *

A/N: Again, I would love to hear what you thing. All the positivity (apparently the FF doc editor doesn't think thats a word?) for my writing, and really gives me the motivation to get everything I've written edited. Again, I know its not perfect, but I appreciate all of the feedback still.

HINT: The next moment will come at the Twins ;-D

Take Care! (Happens to be the album that is playing right now lol).


	8. Bran I

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I meant to post this days ago, especially since it's so short, but I've been so busy with life lately. I'm in the process of buying my second home, house hacked my first one (look into it), and just have been so busy with that entire process. We closed today, so I should have more free time to edit. Like I said, this one is short. So the next one probably will be up tomorrow sometime since I have the day off. As always let me know how you are feeling! I appreciate it.

* * *

Bran

The hunt left at dawn. King Robert wanted wild boar for the feast that night, and his father had decided that if he could see a man executed, then he could go on a hunt. Everyone but Ser Jamie Lannister was up and ready to go. Bran was excited as well, this would be his first hunt of what he hoped became many.

The skies were clear, but the grass was frosted over from the cold of the previous night. He heard a raven caw in the distance. His father hated ravens. If they weren't used to deliver letters to the bannermen, he was sure his father wouldn't have any around at all. Bran himself didn't quite understand it, ravens were such a weird creature to despise.

"Bran," his father called out softly, his voice filled with hope, "stay close to me."

He nodded quietly, and went to mount his horse. Everyone was ready and they set off on a slow trot. A bittersweet feeling took over his body. Today was his first hunt, but his last day in Winterfell. He didn't know when the next time he would see his home was. Tomorrow he was riding south with his father to King's Landing.

He had hoped that he would be able to squire for someone like Ser Barristan the Bold and become a knight in his own right. He wanted to compete in lots of tourneys and give Arya the embarrassment of being his Queen of Love and Beauty. She would be so mad. The thought bought a smile to his face.

He knew all their stories, and knew their names like others knew song. Ser Arthur, the greatest swordsman alive had been his teacher. He wasn't as good Jon or Robb, but they were older, and had more practice. He promised himself that he would be even better than them one day. He would love nothing more than go to King's Landing and impress one of the knights of the Kingsguard so he would become their squire. That would be the dream.

At least, it would be a better dream than he had the night before. It was a weird one this time, he saw Jon riding on the back of a white dragon with red eyes. It was scary, but cool at the same time. There wasn't anyone else he thought that deserved a dragon but Jon. He was the best.

His faithful direwolf trotted slowly along with his horse. Bran still hadn't figured out a name for him that felt right to him yet, but wasn't worried about it all that much. A good name would come soon. It couldn't be rushed.

He was a good rider for being so young but had to admit he had great teachers. Robb and Jon had always been so patient with him growing up and taught him everything. He was grateful for them though they had been acting strange this morning. Ser Arthur had given them stern looks and told them to relax. They were hiding something.

A black raven flew in front of his face, breaking him from his thoughts. It was the oddest raven he had ever seen, it seemed to have three eyes. Surely, he was seeing things.

The raven cawed, and he watched as his father's head snapped toward the sound, glaring at the bird as if it had personally offended him. Father had never liked ravens, but besides their cawing, they seemed so peaceful.

Suddenly, his horse had took off.

She was racing through the forest, seemingly spooked by something. He tried to whisper to her, soothe her like Robb and Jon had taught him, but nothing seemed to work. The horse wouldn't slow down, and he had to duck and dodge tree branches or else he would fall.

"Bran," he head his father yell, but he felt himself falling off his horse and into the empty air. He expected to meet the ground, but his foot got stuck in the saddle and he was doing all he could to keep his head from bouncing off the ground.

He turned his head slightly, and saw a tree rushing to meet him. The last thing he heard was a raven cawing in the distance.

* * *

A/N: There it is! Bran still falls. To me, stories are about balance. In this story Ned has so much knowledge or what will happen that of course he will try to stop it. To make an interesting story, I have to balance that power that he has by making certain things inevitable or else I think the story becomes too boring, too predictable.

The original plan here was to have Robb save him, and then have him fall ill. Honestly, while I think Jamie pushing Bran gave him the trauma needed to awaken his powers, I think had Jamie not pushed Bran, something else would have happened to make those powers awaken. I know in cannon, Jojens ability awakens after a great sickness, which was my plan.

However, in the end, I thought that to be cruel to you as a reader, redundant. Besides, what would it do to Ned? Lol. He is already fragile and cynical enough.

Anyway, let me know what you thing. See you soon!


	9. Robb I

A/N: Yeah I know I'm late on this lol (it's 12:35 Am in New York right now) but its yesterday in California still right? Anyway as always, I appreciate your response to this story. Enjoy!

* * *

Robb

He was up at the crack of dawn. Ser Arthur had made it a habit. They would train in the morning, eat breakfast, wash themselves, attend their lessons, and then train again in the afternoon before having some free time before supper.

Jon or himself had always been the first to rise and the first to the yard. His cousin William was always last. Despite his size and strength, the boy was never very fond of the sword or fighting in general. He was content with following Bran around and going on adventures.

Bran fell and that changed everything.

Now William was first. He heard him before he saw him. He was dancing, as wild as a wolf, around a practice dummy, swinging his sword with great effort. He was out of breath, but obviously wasn't getting tired. He was a demon in the yard. Had been ever since Bran fell.

"Your wasting too much energy moving like that," Robb pointed out. "Refine your technique, you less you have to move, the more energy you will keep."

He got a grunt in reply and was ignored. William still danced, and swung wildly. It was like he was fighting to keep the pain away. Fighting so he wouldn't think about what happened. In a way, he was just like the rest of them. They all had to find a way to cope.

Sansa had obsessed over her needlework. Arya mouthed off to anyone who dared speak to her and was skipping all her lessons. He and Jon had taken to beating the hell out each other during their spars. Rickon was wilder than he had ever been, biting and growling at the people who had tried to take care of him. It had become a spectacle, people had gathered to watch. What would the Stark children do next?

"Little wolf," Robb tried again. He inched closer to his cousin, just outside of harms way. Suddenly he stopped swinging, and was gulping down air as if he had forgotten how to breath. He was shaking now, and his heart broke for his cousin. The only people taking Bran's accident harder than William were Robb's mother and father.

He spoke softly, "Maester Luwin tells me that you haven't been to see Bran yet."

It was surprising, it had almost been a fortnight but the boy who had spent everyday with his brother wouldn't go see him.

"I can't see him like that," William said in between gulps of air, trying to calm himself. It was like a dam broke, and words started to flood out of his mouth. "Bran dreams of being a knight. Maester Luwin says he may never walk again. He may never climb. He may never get to walk in this yard and swing another sword."

"Aye," Robb said slowly, suppressing his own pain. Sadness was for the darkest hour when not a soul could hear, his cousin needed strength. "What does my father always say?"

"Winter is coming," William replied automatically, and cracked a smile. Robb had to smile too. The boy wasn't wrong.

"What else does he say?"

"The pack survives," William said, his head snapping to the ground, hiding the tears that were now falling. He quickly wiped them and looked at Robb with pure determination. "If Bran can't be a knight, I'll be a knight for him. I'll win tournaments and go on great adventures in his name, and when I return home I will always have a great story to tell."

His respect for his young cousin grew and he smiled at him brightly. "I'm not the one who needs to hear that. Every wolf needs their pack cousin, especially their best friends in that pack. Bran may not be awake, but he misses your presence."

"I'll go," William started. "I'll go to him immediately."

Robb watched him run off.

When he was out of sight, and sure he was alone, he tossed his head back took a couple of deep breaths. The tears were getting harder and harder to fight back.

"That was a good thing you did for him Stark," Ser Arthur called out to him. Robb sighed, and pushed them back in again before turning around with a great smile.

"Thanks," he said stronger than he felt. "The pack survives."

"Aye," Ser Arthur said. "Your starting to sound like your father."

"Any word from him?" Robb asked eagerly. His father had spent almost the entire fortnight confined to the comforts of the godswood. Some servants swore the heard him cursing the old gods for playing with his life, others said he just sat there quietly praying for his son's life. Robb hadn't been to check on him. Much like William, he wasn't sure what he would say.

"We spoke last night," Ser Arthur said. "About Jon. About Sansa and Arya. He even told me to send him Rickon, thank the gods for that."

"And of me?" Robb asked.

"Every wolf needs their pack Robb," Ser Arthur responded simply.

Robb hung his head and sighed again, "aye."

An hour later, after Jon came down and they had properly fought each other, Maester Luwin came rushing to the courtyard to tell him that the King had requested his presence. If this is what it would be like being the warden of the North, he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

"Boy," King Robert called out to him, as soon as he walked through the doors of the great hall. He had several plates of food around him and Robb nearly groaned. He had to make sure he keep track of the food storage, else the King and his party would drain them. Another letter to Mace Tyrell was definitely in order.

"Your grace?" Robb answered, kneeling before him. His mother would be proud if she were there. She had always taught them to remember their manners. She was stuck by Bran's bedside these days, and Robb didn't blame her.

"Your father," King Robert began, "he still keeps himself prisoner in those damn woods?"

"Yes," Robb responded politely, struggling to keep his anger in check. It was a stupid question, the entire North had known by now that father was indisposed. They had sent gifts and well wishes for Bran that Robb had to deal with. He was glad he didn't have to deal with anything out of the usual from the banner men. One of his biggest fears was that they would not respect him like they did his father.

"When will he leave that retched place?" the King asked. "I have waited long enough, I need to get headed back south soon."

"I will talk to him today, your grace," Robb responded. He didn't really have a choice.

"See," Queen Cersei said, "this is why we should not leave Tommen here. His father is too busy mourning to run his own castle, and leaves it up to a boy. Are you even still sure you should make him your hand?"

"Ned will be my hand," Robert responded firmly, "but perhaps you are right about Tommen. Maybe now would not be the best time to foster him here. Especially with his closest companion here so tragically injured."

He then turned back to Rob. "You tried your best boy, you and Ned's bastard both."

Robb suppressed the anger that he felt, and instead found himself breathing deeply again, remembering all of the lessons in diplomacy his father had taught him.

"Your grace, Winterfell would have been honored to foster your son, just as it is honored to be your host. Your Queen is right, my father is mourning, but that does not give him excuse to be a terrible host. I will seek him out today and inform him of your decision. All I ask is that if you ever change your mind, and decide that Prince Tommen should be fostered somewhere, that you think of Winterfell again. It would be our honor."

He almost threw up in his mouth but it worked. Robert nodded. Luckily for him the King and Queen didn't have much to say for the rest of breakfast. He was able to excuse himself without much issue. He wanted to head back to the training yard, to beat something again, but knew he had to speak with father first.

He found his father praying quietly before the heart tree. He was alone, Lyarra was stuck to his mother and Bran these days. He almost didn't want to disturb his peace but it was time. This needed to happen.

"Father," he called out. His voice felt weak. He had words for everyone else, but to the man that raised them all, he could think of nothing.

"Robb," his father responded warmly. He waived him over. Robb knelt beside him. They knelt in silence for a moment, praying before the heart tree.

"Please let Bran be okay," he prayed over and over again.

"Speak freely here son," his father spoke first. "The gods will take your pain away."

He laughed at himself. This must have been how William felt that morning. He felt the tears begin to form in his eyes, and suddenly the past two weeks of anger, frustration, sadness and sorrow all rushed to meet him at once. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak.

"I failed him," he finally said, voice shaky, tears now freely falling. "He was right there," he spoke again. It played over and over again in his head. All he had to do was swing his sword, cut his brother loose, and he wouldn't have hit that tree. He would do anything for the sickening crack of his brothers body impacting that tree to stop haunting him.

He began to sob. "I couldn't get to him. I wasn't fast enough. My own brother, and I couldn't do the one thing you have always tasked me to do. I was supposed to protect him. I am supposed to protect them all but I failed them. I failed you father. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He felt his father grab him, and hold on to him warmly. For a moment, he felt like a boy again, sitting across from his father in his solar, eating up every word he spoke. It was one of the best feelings in the world, just getting to spend time with him.

"You have not failed me my young wolf," his father spoke after he calmed a bit. "Bran, although he may never walk again, the gods, the gods have great things planned for your brother. It is fate."

"How can you be so sure," Robb asked.

"I have prayed on it. I have sat before this tree and asked for answers. They have already given me them to me in my dreams. I was just too blind to see it. Bran will be fine. Bran will be great. Bran may never walk again, but the gods, the gods will teach him how to fly."

Had anybody else had said those words to him, he might have laughed at them, but his father had never been wrong before. When his father said something was going to happen, it usually did. If he thought that Bran would learn to fly, he believed him.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, before his father spoke again. "Maester Luwin says you have been doing a fine job running Winterfell in my absence, I am proud of you."

"I've tried," Robb said weakly. "With everything that has been going on, its been hard but I had to be strong, for the pack."

His father nodded and Robb continued to speak. "Are you still going south with King Robert? I broke my fast with him this morning. He is growing impatient."

"Robert has always been impatient, but I understand. He will need to return to the capital soon."

"Tommen won't be staying here anymore," he told his father. "Queen Cersie has convinced the King that with Bran's accident, it wasn't the best idea."

His father sighed. "It would have been great to have him, but that doesn't matter. Tommen was never a part of my orginal plan."

"Father," Robb began, "this great plan you speak of, what is it? How am I supposed to know what role I play if you won't tell me."

"It was never a good time son," his father replied and after a brief moment, he spoke again, "but now it is. Listen to me very closely Robb. We must late fate do most of our work and strike when we can. I need you to pay very close attention and, when the time comes we will pounce like the wolves we are."

"I'm listening father," Robb responded carefully.

His father smiled at him. "Good, we have much to discuss."

* * *

A/N: So what did Eddard tell Robb? We will find out soon, of course. Next chapter we have in Tyrion then followed by another Robb, although I have written the second Robb chapter from both Robb's and Catelyn's viewpoints and don't know which I will post yet. I'm thinking maybe Sunday for the next chapter depending on what my fiance wants to do this weekend.

As always, enjoy!


	10. Tyrion II

Tyrion

Tyrion held on to himself tightly as he watched Ned Stark's bastard Jon Snow spar against the famous Ser Arthur. The more north they went, the colder it got but it didn't seem to bother anyone that was from there. Even Ser Arthur, a man from Dorne, seemed to be used to the cold.

Ser Arthur was an enigma. Tryion's father had been furious when he found out that he had been released from his vows. If Ser Arthur could be released, why not Jamie? The difference to Tyrion was obvious. As much as his father wanted him to, Jamie had no interest of being Lord of Casterly Rock.

Still, the story was told. The story said that Lord Stark was still pissed off at Robert for being so blase about the murder of two innocent children. Robert, who had just wanted his friend back, saw letting Ser Arthur out of his vows and allowing him to go North with him as a way to get his friend to stop being angry with him. It seemed to work.

His brother Jamie though, had different suspicions. Tyrion had not found out what his brother suspected, but they way Jamie seemed to be obsessed with them at Winterfell caused him to take interest too.

"Doesn't it seem odd," Jamie had spoke out loud to him a day after Bran Stark fell. "He was sworn to Ned Stark, yet he follows Jon Snow around like a lost puppy."

His brother hadn't lied. Ser Arthur had spent more time with Jon Snow than he had spent with anybody when they were at Winterfell. Even stranger, when Lord Stark had finally decided he was ready to ride south, Ser Arthur did not ride with him as his sworn sword, but instead turned North with Jon Snow to drop off supplies to Castle Black.

Tyrion thought the answer was simple. Ser Arthur was the boy's uncle, and the rumors of Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark had been true. It made sense and was logical. What didn't make sense is where Ned Stark had found Ser Arthur in the first place They said that Ned Stark defeated Ser Arthur at the tower of joy in attempt to save his sister.

What was Ser Arthur doing guarding Lyanna Stark in the first place?

So he watched the two closely while they traveled. Every day they were the same. They were up before everyone in the camp. They traveled light, it had been Ser Arthur, Jon Snow, himself and three Lannister men he was allowed to bring with him.

When they woke up, they sparred. An hour everyday, before they would get ready to depart from where ever they had been camping. Tyrion had been observant, and saw the Jon Snow seemed to carry two swords. One, a regular steel sword that he used to practice, and another that had a direwolf pommel that resembled the boy's strange pet. He never drew the blade from it's scabbard, and tried to hide it away as much as possible. It was definitely strange.

The North itself went on forever.

Tyrion knew all the maps as well as anyone, but after a fortnight on a well paved road he had began to realize the maps where wrong. Where they said that there would be frozen wastelands and forest, there were lively keeps and villages full of hardworking people that were happy to be free.

Tyrion's favorite stop had been at a keep the local villagers had called Bonehold, named after the Lord of Bones that resided over the castle. The man was a famous wildling raider before Ned Stark had let him south below the wall, and he had greeted them wearing the skull of a giant and armor that seemed to be made of bones.

Ser Arthur had laughed. "Your scaring our guest."

Although intimidated at first, Tyrion did find the man and the people he led quite fascinating. This type of northerner was different than the ones he met at Winterfell. They were wild and full of spirit, just happy to be alive happy to be free.

The ale, while it was an acquired taste, flowed freely and the men and woman danced with great joy and sand plenty of song. They even sang a song dedicated to the Quiet Wolf of Winterfell who had gave them a home and saved them from the great others. It was fascinating.

He couldn't help but notice Jon Snow sharing pleasantries and blushes with a red haired girl that seemed the complete opposite of everything that the boy was. Nor could he help but notice the watchful eye of Ser Arthur, seemingly watching every move the boy made, ready to strike should something had gone wrong.

"Tell me when uncle Kevan ever treated us like that," Jamie has said when Tyrion had pointed out his theory about Ashara. Maybe his brother was right.

Soon after the left the comforts of the Bonehold, the mountains to the west formed a great wall of their own. The kingsroad turned northeast, and soon his nights were filled with howls that seemed to grow closer with each passing night. While the sound of howling wolfs got closer and closer, it was unnerving that Jon Snow's albino direwolf never lifted his voice in reply. He just stayed dutifully by his owner, as silent as he could be. It was odd.

On the eighteenth night of their journey, he had settled by tree just beyond the noise of the camp. He was reading a book, when Jon Snow had interrupted his thoughts.

"Why do you read so much?" Jon asked him. It was nothing more than a conversation starter, he doubted the boy cared at all for the answer, yet he still answered.

"What do you see?" Tyrion responded. The boy narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the question and gladly voiced that opinion.

"I am a dwarf, Jon Snow," Tyrion said. "While you do battle with that sword you try so hard to hide, I need to fight with my mind. Books keep it sharp."

If they boy was surprised that Tyrion knew about the sword, he did well not to show it. In the end he just shrugged, as if the revelation that Tyrion knew about his sword didn't effect him at all. He finally spoke again, "What are you reading about?" he asked.

"Dragons," Tyrion spoke simply. Tyrion almost raised his eyes in surprise. Try as he may, Jon Snow could not hide that reaction. The boy was definitely interested in dragons."

"What does it say?" Jon asked his voice laced with curiosity.

"Its about the properties of dragonbone. It's as light as steel, yet lighter and far more flexible," he stopped. The boys faced dropped. He wasn't interested in the book anymore. How strange. "Anyway, when I was your age, I used to dream of having a dragon of my own."

"I dream the same thing," Jon said with an easy smile. He was hiding something. "Who doesn't?"

Tyrion nodded at him, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"Your sword," Tyrion said, "the one that you hide. Can I see it?"

Jon Snow laughed. "It is supposed to be a secret, remember."

Tyrion laughed as well. The boy was trained well in dodging questions but he would still ask. "Where did you get it?"

Jon Snow sighed. "My father left it for me."

Such a strange choice of words. "I don't know how he got it."

A lie, or at least it felt like one. Jon Snow as starting to become more and more interesting.

* * *

A/N: Something light. I always felt like Tyrion was the smartest guy in the room. So for him to start the unravel some of the mystery here, especially with all that has been changed in this AU, made sense to me. It also bugs the hell out of me that in a world in which people don't seem to trust anybody for anything, no one questioned why three members of the Kingsgaurd were gardening Lyanna Stark while Rhaegar was at war.

Anyway, next chapter should be posted on Sunday. Gonna be another Robb as we get to some action! Then after that, we have to see what Theon and the girls are getting up to on the road, and then finally Jon meets Aemon.

See you soon!


	11. Robb II

Robb

Eight days. His father had been eight days gone, yet his mother still sat attached to Bran's side like a bee to honey.

He had done absolutely everything he could to keep the North running smoothly. He studied the figures relentlessly, double checking everything before he made a single decision. The shipment of food from Highgarden to replace what the King and his party ate would arrive in another fortnight. Trade in Saltspear and White Harbor was still booming, and they still had a lot of gold flowing even with the amount his father had taken to pay off the King's debt to the Iron Bank.

Yet, the weight of Ice was still heavy on his back. He had expected to be used to it all by know, even if his father had only been gone eight days, he still ran Winterfell for two weeks in his place before that. He was starting to think he would never get used to it.

Winterfell had been lonely without his family. He never thought he would miss them so much and he still felt so helpless while Bran was still stuck in that bed. He hadn't moved. The only hope that he had that his brother was even still alive was the subtle movements his chest made from breathing. It was heart breaking to watch. A boy so once full of life, so dead… He would do anything just for him to see again.

He stood calmly by the doorway, watching anxiously as his mother tended to his brother. Lyarra was there with her, and so was Bran's still unnamed direwolf. Father had told him he would leave Lyarra in Winterfell, that his mother would need her more than he would.

He stared at the window, waiting for it all to happen.

"Eight days after I have gone, a fire will start in the library," his father had told him. "It is very important that if this happens, you stay by your mother's side. Do not leave her."

It was one of the many things his father had instructed him to do. They talked about various scenarios that his father had saw in his dreams, and what Robb would do if they came to pass. The problem with it all was that his father had always been so vague, like he was afraid to say too much in case it might ruin the future.

It was obvious that his father had wanted something major to happen. Robb just wasn't sure what yet.

Maester Luwin had wanted to bother his mother, wanted to lie and tell her that the books needed to be looked at in order to lure her from Bran's bed. Robb knew it wouldn't work, so he didn't let his Maester even attempt it. He was beginning to worry about her though, these days she looked as frail and pale as Bran did.

The only other person that had really visited Bran was William. Uncle Benjen had offered to bring the boy home, but his cousin was offended by the thought. When the boy wasn't in the training yard or the godswood praying for Bran's healthy recovery, he was found sitting quietly in the corner, keeping Robb's mother silent company.

"Mother," Robb called softly, still leaning against the door frame. Talking to father had made him feel better. He hoped that talking to his mother would have the same effect on her. "What are you doing?"

A stupid question, but he didn't know what else to say at that moment. Her scowl let him know that he had the right thought.

"What am I doing?" she had asked, voice laced with a barely contained fury. "How can you ask me that? What do you imagine I'm doing? I am taking care of your brother. I am taking care of Bran."

Robb sighed. He wouldn't blame her for being cross with him, not when Bran was like this. "I'm more worried about you mother. Maester Luwin says that Bran will be fine, but if you keep this up by the time he wakes you will be as sick as he is now."

His mother's lip quivered, and he almost broke at the sight. She was so sad, so heartbroken."What is Maester Luwin is wrong? What if Jon is wrong? What if Sansa, and Arya, and your father, what if they are all wrong? What if your're wrong?"

A brief moment passed, he didn't have a response. She took Bran's limp hand into her own. "I can't leave him, even for a moment, not when any moment could be his last. I have to be here, I just have too. If..." he voice faded away, and he dared not speak again.

So instead he waited. Shaggydog had started to howl, then Grey Wind had joined him. Lyarra and Bran's wolf had lifted their heads, but neither of them made a sound. He walked quickly toward the window where he saw it.

"Fire," he whispered. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His mother had said something, but his mind was too much in shock to hear her. He quickly decided to take action. He ran to the door and told the guards quietly to rush to the library. He turned to Lyarra and Bran's wolf who both were on guard, and quietly whispered "to the shadows." Luckily, they listened.

He himself hid by the door, waiting patiently for what felt like forever while he watched as his motherly stared at him oddly.

"Robb," she had began but he put his finger to his lip and shushed her. They just had to wait a few more moments…

His mother glared at him, hard and had turned to close the windows that he just had opened. He had smelled the man before he saw him. He watched calmly as his mother turned around, and gasped in shock.

"You weren't s'posed to be here," the man muttered sourly.

"Neither were you," Robb growled and in an instant had Ice pressed against the mans neck. Lyarra and her pup had emerged growing from the shadows. The man pissed himself and dropped the dagger. Robb kicked it away. That was good. Fear would only help him.

"Mother," Robb said calmly. "I need you to sit down, be as calm as possible. I will handle this."

She nodded meekly, and Robb understood that was all he would get from her and turned his attention to the man.

"Who sent you," he asked first.

"I can't tell ya that," the man murmured. Lyarra snarled at him as she inched closer. He was content on letting her be the intimidating factor.

"You have a family, yes?" Robb asked, and the man nodded. It was a guess, a lucky one, but his father had taught him that desperate men did desperate things for the people they loved. Others just liked to watch the world burn. He realized that he was lucky that this man didn't fall into the later category or else no information would be gained from him this night.

"Where are you from?" Robb asked, and this time he didn't get any resistance.

"The Vale," he responded easily. Robb frowned, that didn't really tell him anything.

"I will make this simple," Robb said. "You will die, whether it be tonight or tomorrow it doesn't really matter. What does matter is your family. If you give me the name of the person who sent you, I will personally make sure your family is taken care of for the rest of their lives."

"I have a boy," his voice broke, "an a lil' girl too."

"Who sent you," Robb asked again calmly. It was over now. He had the man.

"Prince Joffrey," the man said. That was all he needed to hear.

Four days later, he was summoned from his father's solar with news that his mother had finally waken from her extended slumber. She had immediately fell asleep that night after all that had happened and he had ordered her to be taken to her bed.

He had executed the man the morning after, and quickly found solace in the godswood. That was another thing his father had been right about.

"On the eight night that I'm gone a fire could erupt in the library. If it does, and you are with your mother, stay quietly behind the door. You will know what to do."

It was a rather odd request when his father had spoke it to him, but that was then and this was now. His father had been right, which meant he could be right about everything they had discussed. He had wished that he would have written it all down, and prayed that his memory wouldn't fail him. When his father said something, it was often right.

He had arrived at his mother's door before her food did. Rodrik Cassel came with him, so did Hallis Mollen, one of the guards. Robb had decided to name him captain of the new guard, now that his father had taken the old one to King's Landing with him.

"Who was he?" his mother asked immediately.

"A desperate man from the Vale," Robb responded simply. "He said that Prince Joffrey had offered him 90 silver stags and that Valyrian Steel dagger if he put Bran out his misery. Sounds just like the Prince if I'm honest."

His mother was bitter, "It's good to know my son's life was not sold cheaply."

They were all quiet for a moment. Robb couldn't argue with his mother. She was right. He had wanted to march down to King's Landing himself and kill Joffrey for this offense against his family but he was confident his father would handle it. He hadn't told him all the details, but Robb was confident his father had a plan.

"I would like to speak with my son in private," Catelyn said, and Robb dismissed the two guards. He had already ordered ten men at Bran's door at all times, and not a soul would dare attempt to pry Lyarra or her pup from that room. The kennel master even had taken to feeding them there.

"How did you know he would be there?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Father warned me," he responded quickly. "Said he wasn't sure what would happened, but he dreamed that if I saw a fire to hide behind the door."

His mother sighed. He couldn't blame her, his father always had something to tell them, but it was frustrating, his instructions were always so vague.

"Did he tell you that your aunt Lysa believes that the Lannisters murdered her husband, Lord Arryn, the Hand of the King?" Catelyn asked.

He shook his head. His father definitely failed to mention that but his thoughts quickly formed. "They don't want father in the capital," Robb said. "They figured that if they killed his son he would be forced to return home."

His mother smiled thinly at him, "precisely. I must go to King's Landing. I must warn your father."

His father was right again. "If you mother ask to come tell me something of great importance in King's Landing, do not stop her. It is imperative that she goes. Send Ser Rodrik with her."

"Aye," Robb responded. "I will take care of Bran and Rickon. Jon will be home soon. It's best you travel by sea. If you are fast enough, you should be able to arrive in that dreaded city before father does."

* * *

A/N: Posted this early because I've had time today lol. Hope you all continue to enjoy. Let me know what you think.


	12. Theon I

Theon

"Theon," he recalled Lord Eddard Stark saying. They had taken a ship from Pyke to Saltspear and traveled to Winterfell from there. He remembered his first time setting sight on the castle, how in awe of it he was. Winterfell had lived up to it's name.

"When we walk through those gates," Lord Stark had told him. "You are a part of the pack. I understand that a part of you will always be a Kraken, but your a wolf now too."

Looking back on it, and knowing what he had learned about battle strategy and fighting from Ser Arthur and Ser Rodrik, his father had been a fool. The North had already started the beginning steps of rebuilding their naval power, and rebelling when he did was foolish. Still, his father rebelled and Theon was made a hostage.

Lord and Lady Stark had accepted him into their home from day one. Robb was his best friend. He enjoyed teasing Arya and Sansa. He reveled in teaching Bran how to use a bow, and sparring with little Rickon in the field. Winterfell had become home for him.

So when it was time to leave and go south with Lord Stark, sorrow filled his gut. He would miss the training yard with Robb. He would miss the late nights sneaking in the kitchen to take wine and ale. He would miss the brothels, and the whores.

Lord Stark had given him his orders. He was to keep close to Arya and Sansa as possible, and make sure that nothing happened to him. He was glad that Lord Stark had trusted him with this task, but it was bittersweet. He wasn't the first choice.

Marna had refused to go south, and chose to stay at Moat Cailin with her father. He didn't really blame her. Had he had the choice he would have chose to stay at Winterfell with Robb.

Domeric Bolton also chose to return to the Dreadfort.

"The people have been without their Lord too long," he had told Lord Stark. Sansa was heartbroken. She had tried to play it off, like it didn't bother her, but he knew that look. She was quieter than normal, she didn't really speak much. Domeric chose duty over Sansa and she hadn't gotten over it yet.

He had stuck mostly close to her in those first few days. He tried to to give her comfort by trying to make her laugh, and be happy. It didn't always work, but when it did, it was amazing to see her smile again. Sansa had a beautiful smile.

Lord Stark had called for him that morning, and Jory had woke him up earlier than normal. Lord Stark had ridden off with Robert almost everyday, and must have wanted to speak with him about something important.

He entered the tent, and for a moment the two were alone.

"Theon," Lord Stark spoke after studying him for a moment. He had started to squirm. It was like the man could see right through him. He felt compelled to speak the truth whenever he was under the watchful eye of Lord Stark.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. It was such a strange question. He had never been asked that by Lord Stark or anyone before. He didn't know how to answer it.

"What do you mean?" he responded and Lord Start sighed and smiled sadly.

"He is your brother too."

Bran. He was talking about Bran. No one had asked him how he felt after Bran's accident. He was there too. He had felt just as guilty and Jon and Robb did. He watched Bran fall, and could do nothing about it. He had never felt so helpless. While Jon and Robb had dealt with it by beating the piss out of eachother, he buried his guilt in more wine and whores.

"Maester Luwin said that he will recover," Theon responded weakly but felt his voice growing stronger. "He says that he might even be able to gather the strength to walk again."

"And what do you think?"

"I think he can do it," he replied. "I think that when he wakes up that nothing can stop him from walking again."

Lord Stark smiled at him, "Good. I'm sure he will appreciate it if you write him while you are away. Him and Robb both. They are brothers to you yes? The pack stays together Theon."

Theon nodded. It had become a habit of Lord Stark to remind him that he was a part of the family. It didn't always feel that way.

Lord Stark sighed again. "I must admit, I did not just call you in here at this hour to see how you were doing. I do have a very important task for you today."

His face had turned grim, and suddenly Lord Stark was very, very serious.

"Anything, my lord," Theon had responded.

Lord Stark frowned, but continued anyway. "I need you to stick very close to Arya today. Should conflict arise between her and Prince Joffrey, you must do everything you can to put a stop to it before it escalates."

It was such a strange command, but Theon found himself nodding in agreement again. Lord Stark continued to talk. "This is a very important task Theon. Lives are at stake."

He had been confused by that but promised to follow his orders anyway. The thought had stuck with him the entire day. He had followed Arya and the butcher's boy while they tried to look for Rhaegars ruby in the ford.

He had even found himself shouting out pointers and tips, mostly to Mycah who needed way more help than Arya ever could, as the two sparred with wooden swords.

And when Joffrey emerged from the trees, Sansa with him, he knew that he would never doubt a word Lord Stark would say to him again.

The Prince had obviously been drunk. His words slurred together, and his balance was off. He laughed loudly which drew Arya's ire.

"Go away," she had shouted at them. Sansa looked worried. He was still in shock. How could Lord Stark have known?

"Arya," Sansa laughed lightly as well. It wasn't mocking, like the Prince's laugh, but she still laughed. "poor Mycah, your terrorizing him, it looks like he needs a break."

"Your sister?" Joffrey asked, his voice becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. Sansa nodded. Mycah was wide-eyed and terrified. This was going to get out of hand fast if he didn't do something.

The prince turned his attention the boy next, "and who are you?"

"My friend," Arya responded, voice filled with loyalty and defiance. She was ready to defend Mycah if she had to. It was admirable. "You leave him alone."

Theon decided that it was time to put a stop to this before it went to far. "He is not worth your time, your grace."

Arya went to speak but Theon interrupted her sternly, "enough Arya. Our prince is right. It isn't proper for you two to be seen out here like this. I should have known better."

She went to speak again, but he turned to her sharply, his eyes begging her to be quiet. She gave a great heave and kept her mouth closed. He was grateful for that.

"Mycah, apologize to our prince," Theon added.

"I'm sorry m'lord," the boy stuttered softly, his eyes stuck to his feel.

"Looks like the Kraken knows his betters," the Prince spoke, clearly pleased with himself. He had to bite his tongue. He almost said something stupid. He wanted to follow Lord Stark's orders, to impress him that he had completed his task, but Prince Joffrey made it harder than it needed to be.

"If you will allow us your leave," Theon said, trying his hardest not to sound angry. "I will take the children back to camp, and you and Lady Sansa can enjoy the rest of your afternoon together."

Sansa gave him a warm smile. It was like she was the only one who understood how tense the situation had been. "That would be great Theon. Thank you."

He had gathered Arya, Mycah, the horses and Nymeria quickly, and then soon departed back to camp. Arya was angry at him, but he could live with that. Arya was angry with him most times.

When Sansa had returned to camp later, she had cornered him and asked her questions.

"What was that?" she had asked. She knew him. They had grown up together. She must have realized how hard it was for him to keep his tongue.

He decided to be honest to her. "Your father told me to keep the peace between Arya and Joffrey today. He said lives were at stake."

As he expected, she stared at him just as oddly as he was sure he stared at Lord Stark when he was given his orders. Theon shrugged. It had been an odd day.

* * *

A/N: Jon meets Aemon next. I was going to do a thing where I answered some of your reviews this chapter, but its late where I am at and I'm tired plus the Nationals just beat the Astro's which means my wife is fuming right now due to the Masked Singer not being on again tomorrow. Women and their shows lol.

Until Next Time!


	13. Jon II

Jon

His body shifted softly as he was woken from his sleep. Ghost, curled at his lifted his growing head and stared curiously, wondering what was going on. The fact that his direwolf did not act told him that he was in no danger. Still, he gazed angrily around the room to see who had woke him up.

Ser Arthur, a ghost of a laugh etched on his lips, stared at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. Jon instantly stopped scowling, and could feel his features soften. If Arthur was waking him, then it must be important.

"Maester Aemon wishes to speak with you," Ser Arthur spoke. One of the many qualities he had enjoyed about the man was his frankness. He said what he meant, and meant what he said.

"Now?" Jon questioned. It had to be the middle of the night. He could almost remember falling into a blissful slumber mere moments ago.

"Every one in the castle is sleep," Ser Arthur responded, a frown replacing his amusement. Of course, Ser Arthur had been hard on them all in their lessons, but Jon knew that he expected the most from him. He just never knew why. It was obvious now.

"I should have known," Jon spoke his apology quickly, and rose from his bed. They had talked about this. He scurried over to his belongings and attached the sword of his father's family securely to his hip. He kept the egg in a sack with his other belongings, and he made sure to bring that along with them. It was the reason they were here after all, they had hoped that maybe Aemon knew how to hatch it.

"Ghost, to me," he called softly, and his wolf responded dutifully. The last couple of weeks had been eventful. When they arrived at the wall, they had been treated as honored guest of the Night's Watch. The Lord Commander had given them rooms in the King's Tower.

In the mornings he had trained vigorously with the men of the Night's Watch. He had many scrapes and bruises to show for it. At Winterfell, only Robb and Ser Arthur could really challenge him. At the wall it was different. These men were hardened by his Uncle Benjen before they were sent to the wall where the kept to a strict schedule. They trained in shifts, and while Robb would get tired and Jon would catch a break, these men came at him in waves that seemed never ended.

He received little sympathy from Ser Arthur when he found him self speaking on the difficulties he had when he first arrived. The men of the Watch had been brutal in that training yard, it was like a sport to them. Jon understood it. It was the only thing they had to do. Most of the free folk had come south of the Wall, so when they were not fighting, they were stuck standing atop of a wall watching for a threat that would never come.

At night they had dined at Commander Mormont's own table and spent their days riding the Wall and their nights drinking with the high officers of the Watch.

"It is not every day that a son of Lord Eddard Stark and the famed Sword of the Morning come galloping in our halls," Bowen Marsh had said. It was a false statement but the man was drunk so Jon let it pass. His father, because the truth of it all was that Eddard Stark was still his father, had sent Ser Arthur on plenty of journey's to the Wall to deliver supplies and men. They had a system. Uncle Benjen would train those who came from the south at Cailin, and Ser Arthur would deliver them to the Wall.

They had arrived at Maester Aemon's room rather quickly, Arthur was obviously trying to make sure they had not been seen. It was hard to imagine that they would be, the halls, usually flowing with people, were empty at this time of night. It was quiet except for the cold winds of the North.

Ser Arthur knocked on his door three times before entering and rushing Jon and his wolf inside.

"Arthur," maester Aemon croaked, his voice old. He sat in a sturdy chair by the fire that danced softy to light the room. Jon had seen him before, but never heard his voice. It was powerful, it demanded a respect that you wouldn't expect from the appearance of the man. He was old, bald, and seemed to shrink in the chair, but his voice was something different.

"You must be Jon," he spoke again and used the cane that sat across his lap to wave Jon over to the chair across from him. "Before you sit put the egg in the fire."

Jon followed his directed and sat down immediately before he began to look around. It was a small tidy room, but it looked comfortable. Ser Arthur stood quietly by the door.

"Can I touch you?" maester Aemon asked. It was a strange request, and but he obliged. It was like the Maester already knew where he was, and reached out and used his soft hands to gently trace Jon's face. It was a weird feeling, yet Jon couldn't help but feel comfortable.

Arthur, you said he looked like a Stark, but I can feel Rhaegar in him," maester Aemon laughed and grasped Jon's shoulders. "He even has Rhaegar's build."

He saw Arthur smile sadly but didn't pay too much attention. He was fascinated by the man in front of him.

"How did you know it was me?" Jon asked.

"When you lose your eyes like I have," maester Aemon stated, a thin smile danced across his lips, "your other senses struggle to make up for what they have lost. I could hear your footsteps against the stone floors. I could smell you as you sat."

"What do I smell like?" Jon asked.

"Your wolf," Maester responded quickly and laughed. Jon couldn't help but join him. "He is a quiet one isn't he? I would have never known he was here except for the smell. He is loyal that one. Keep him close."

Jon nodded, and immediately felt small. He remembered that he had to speak, maester Aemon couldn't see him.

"Don't worry about it," maester Aemon said, seeming to read his mind. "It is not often you come across a blind man."

"How did you know," Jon found himself asking again.

Again, the Maester was smiling. "A lucky guess."

"Ser Arthur here has told me stories about you for years," the maester spoke again. "It warmed my heart to hear that I had a relative so close. I had thought myself alone after we received news of Rhaegar's fall and the deaths of his children. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."

"You have family still in Essos as well," Jon responded weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes," maester Aemon responded. "We do. I often wonder how Viserys and Daenarys fare. Ser Arthur tells me that Lord Stark keeps tabs on them. He tells me that they are well taken care of."

Jon was surprised by that. He didn't know that his father had been looking after his Aunt and Uncle in Essoss. He supposed it made sense though, they were family. Eddard Stark was known for taking care of his pack. Perhaps his father thought that sense they were Jon's relatives, that they were members too. He would have to ask him when he saw him again.

"Your a quiet one," maester Aemon spoke again to break up the silence. "Reserved. Your father was the same way. They say that Lord Stark is as well."

"Every one else says I'm brooding," Jon responded easily, a smile forming on his lips. He found himself beginning to open up to the man, they spent what felt like hours by that fire telling him the many stories of his childhood and what it was like growing up in Winterfell.

"When did you find out," maester Aemon had finally asked him. "When did you find out who you truly are?"

"Not too long ago," Jon responded after a short pause. He still hadn't fully accepted it yet. It was still hard to believe. "And now they want me to be King."

Aemon nodded. "You didn't want it?"

"No," Jon said. "Not at first."

"What changed your mind?" Aemon asked.

"My father says winter is coming. He thinks that I will be the one who leads the pack to spring."

Maester Aemon smiled. "Ned Stark and Rhaegar weren't that different.. Rhaegar used to write the same thing. He thought you were destined to be special, you and both your siblings. Although, he did think you would be a girl as well."

Jon laughed. "Visenya would have been my name or so I've been told."

"Yes," maester Aemon replied. "Aegon and his conquerors come again. Fate has a funny way of reminding you that your own plans don't mean much. Your siblings died tragically, and yet here you are. A Prince of Ice and Fire. Your father says that winter is coming, and I do believe him. The Starks are always right, eventually. Winter is coming. This one will be long, and dark things will come with it."

"So you agree with my father then?" Jon asked, "You believe that the others are marching south?"

"I do," Aemon responded simply. "Tell me, you have witnessed the execution of each deserter that Lord Stark found. You heard their pleas. What do you believe?"

Jon thought back to the grim faced man whom had begged his father to listen. He would never forget the fear he saw in that man's eyes.

"White Walkers," he spoke fearfully. "I saw the White Walkers. White Walkers. The White Walkers, I saw them."

His father nodded solemnly at him but the man kept talking. "I know I broke my oath. And I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them. But I saw what I saw. I saw the White Walkers. Tall, and gaunt with skin as pale as milk. It was so cold. People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them to run. Tell them that I'm sorry."

He remembered watching his father bend over and whisper something to the man, whose eyes went wide with relief.

"Thank you," he said and then his father took his head.

"Winter is coming," Jon finally responded, bringing his thoughts back to the present, "but what do I do?"

"Be a dragon," Ameon responded easily. "Be a wolf. Be both. It doesn't matter. Either way, I believe you will become exactly who you are supposed to be. You will probably find little joy when you rule, but with luck, you'll find the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon Targaryen. Winter is coming. Kill the boy, and let the man be born."

Jon took a deep breath. It was sound advice. He would do anything it took to protect the pack. Anything. He turned to the Maester again and smiled, "Thank you."

"Rhaegar used to write to me all the time," Aemon said. "I would give him council as best. After you leave here, should you ever find yourself needing a shoulder to lean on, write me and I will help you the best to my abilities."

"That is why I came here," Jon admitted. "The egg, although it is made of stone, it feels alive. I feel connected to it like I feel connected to Ghost but its different. An actual dragon could save us all. How did the Targaryens hatch dragon eggs?"

"There were always multiple ways to hatch a dragon," Aemon started. "We used some of the methods, but did not know all of them. You have to understand that House Targaryen was a lesser house in the Valaryian freehold. We knew the basics. When the doom destroyed the Valyrian peninsula it destroyed a lot of knowledge, and those who have tried to retrieve it have all meant their end."

"In the beginning, we would give an egg to a child and have them do everything with it. They would sleep with it, eat with it, learn with it, everything. If the dragon hatched, then that child was looked at as a true Targaryen. I doubt it ever worked like that. I think their had to be a connection, much like the one you feel now."

"Then I just wait and hope the connection grows strong enough?" Jon ask.

"If I'm honest with you Jon, I don't think your egg will ever hatch," Aemon said, crushing his hopes. "I've never personally heard of a dragon to hatch from stone. The other method we used to hatch dragons was to let the dragons handle it. A dragon hasn't been seen for the last century and a half so that is no help."

Jon sighed. It was upsetting but he would have to move on. Winter was coming, and he couldn't put all his hopes on the egg hatching if he wanted to be the King everyone seemed to think he could be. He still wasn't to sure himself.

"I wouldn't give up on it yet," Aemon said, as if he sensed his feeling. "Do what the Targaryens of past have done. Sleep with it, talk to eat, eat with it. Try to make that connection stronger and if the time comes remember our house words."

"Our house words?" Jon questioned slowly.

"Fire and Blood."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait! No real excuse unless you count Rainbow Six Siege lol. The next chapter should be out much faster, although I make zero promises. As always tell me what you think!


	14. Ned III

Eddard

Eddard Stark had rode through the bronze doors of the Red Keep almost the same as he had before. He was still sore, was still tired, still hungry, but he was content. Bringing Theon along with him had proved to be the right choice so far. The boy had so far managed to cheer Sansa up, and had done exactly what he told him to and saved Nymeria.

In reality, Nymeria was never really in any danger, not this time. He had made sure to excuse himself from Robert early this time, and was close by to step in if something went wrong but he needed Theon to do this for him. He had gone out of his way to make sure Theon felt apart of the pack and he was sure that giving him small task with seemingly grave importance would make him feel needed. He hated playing with the boy this way, but he would be damned if his family was betrayed by him again.

Grand Maester Pycelle had called for an urgent meeting of the small council, just like last time, but this time he was ready. He wanted to flex the muscle he had been building all those years, and this would be the perfect time to do it. Certain arrangements had already been made.

It was insane to him how nothing had changed about the room that the small council met in. He never was a man for minute details, but for some reason the fact that absolutely nothing in that room, down to the myrish carpets, had changed absolutely irritated him. It was like a reminded of what would come if he wasn't careful, but he had his plan. He would wait quietly before he howled.

"Lord Stark," the eunuch Varys started the moment he entered the room. "I was happy to hear that you didn't have any troubles on the kingsroad. We have all been visiting the sept to pray for a safe return and arrival for all of you."

Ned had to suppress a groan. Even without Joffrey getting injured, the words were almost the same.

"Your gods have listened," Ned reponded simply. "It was a long and tiring journey, but we have made it here safely, and for that I am grateful." He moved on from Varys quickly, and crossed the room where Lord Renly was sitting by the screen, talking quietly again with Littlefinger.

"Lord Stark," Renly called out. "Forgive me for leaving the party early, I was eager to get back to the capital."

Ned smiled at him. Renly would be a big part of his plans. "Don't fret about it, although I can say I did miss your company. You remind me much of Robert when we were young boys running around the Vale."

"I could never be my brother," Renly responded with a smile of his own. That was good, Ned was counting on that.

He turned to Littlefinger, "I'm afraid we have never met. Who might you be?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and if Ned wasn't looking he would of missed it but he ignored the jibe. He eyed Ned that same cocky smile that he always had.

"I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. I am Petyr Baelish. Surely Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you?"

"Never," Ned responded simply, not letting his arrogance bother him. "Although I do think my brother Brandon did mention someone of that name. Said that he was insignificant and would dead if not for Lady Catelyn."

This time, Renly's laugh was music to his ears. Even Varys shuffling over to listen didn't bother him. He would enjoy ending Littlefinger. The question was whether he would do it now, or later.

Baelish went to talk again, but Ned had already moved passed him to the table and spoke, "Maester Pycelle, I hope you are well."

"Well enough my lord," he replied. "I tire easier than I did in my youth, but that is expected with a man of my age and wisdom."

Ned put on his best face and smiled warmly. "I too find myself starting to tire easy these days. Hopefully that means I am growing wise like you."

Pycelle smiled back at him. "Perhaps we might begin soon?"

"Of course," Ned said and turned to the table formally, "my lords I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

They had each muttered out the same forced and polite replies as they had before, and Eddard couldn't help feel the same as he had last time. He did not belong here, in this room, with these men, but thought that this was the easiest way to get Jon on the throne. He would just have to play the game a little bit longer.

"Has Stannis still not responded to his summons?" Ned started with, already knowing the answer.

"My little birds tell me that Stannis still sits at Dragonstone," Varys responded. "He had not made a move or attempted to respond to his summons."

"Do we know why?" Ned asked.

"I'm afraid that we do not know his motives," Varys responded again.

Ned grinned at him wickedly. "It seems to me that your birds do not fly over Dragonstone, much like they don't fly over the North. It is far to cold and Winter is coming." He then dismissed the matter with a wave. "It does not matter, I will visit Dragonstone myself if I do not hear something from Stannis soon. Perhaps we would wait for Ser Barristan and the King to join us?"

He had zero intention of going to Dragonstone. In fact, he didn't need Stannis at all. He just needed to wait. He had to present to these people that he was the same honorable fool that they thought him to be, and only when the time was right, would he plan on showing them all. He was playing to win.

"This morning he commanded me to ride ahead and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at one. He has an urgent task for us," Renly had continued to spout the same words he had heard before.

"A tournament in my honor?" Ned asked as he dismissed the paper from Littlefinger without taking it. "We spoke briefly of it on the road."

"How much?" Littlefinger asked, growing annoyed.

Ned smiled. "Our king isn't one to discuss numbers or count coppers. Surely he came up with something extravagant that sounded like a lot."

"Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion," Renly began. "Twenty thousand to the man who comes in second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition."

"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger said, "and that is before we count the other cost."

"I actually agree with you Lord Baelish. However, I know the treasury cannot bear that cost. I understand that the crown is in debt. When Robert took over the throne, the coffers were filled. Aerys was mad but he conducted himself well in economical matters. As master of coin, how have you managed to waste it all."

Little finger shrugged arrogantly again. "The master of coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it."

Eddard sighed. "I suppose so. Again it does not matter. I don't suppose you have heard but I have managed to amass a small little fortune of my own in the North. After restoring our own Northern fleet trade with the West and Highgarden has been booming. People from as far as Mareen have paid a great price for Norther furs and wood. We have even found some mines of salt and silver in our mountains. I have told my king that if we must throw a tournament in my honor, than I should pay for it on my own."

"Lord Stark," his own steward Vayon Poole had interrupted with a planned knock on the door. "The representative from the Iron Bank has learned of our arrival. He has asked to speak with you immediately.

"Perfect," Ned smiled and waved. "Bring him in."

"Lord Dimittis," Ned called out as the man walked into the room. He stood up to shake the mans hand. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine Lord Stark," Noho responded. "I was quite surprised when I received the letter requesting a representative of the Iron Bank here in your lovely capital. It turned pleasant when I found out it was you who sent to request. It has always been pleasant doing business with the North."

"I should say the same," Ned responded. "I was once a Lord with big dreams for his people and land, now look at me! I owe much of it to the business I have done with you, but enough of the small talk. I have called you hear for a reason. I do understand that my friend does owe the Iron Bank some coin."

"Yes," Noho responded, "currently the Iron Throne owes us a little over a million dragons."

Ned frowned. "Robert is like a brother to me, and it does not serve me to have my brother in debt," he then turned to Vayon, "Vayon, arrange a payment to pay off the debt that our Robert owes to the Iron Bank. After you are done, make sure my good friend Noho is given a chamber in our tower. He is to provided with the best of everything this city has to offer. "

"Of course, my lord," Vayon Poole responded with a bow.

"Now if you will excuse us Lord Simittis," Ned said with a smile, "the council and I were discussing a tournament to be held."

After Noho Dimittis had left swiftly returned to his seat and took stock of the room. Calculating eyes bore into his own and he smiled victoriously at the room. "I understand that the Throne owes the Faith another million dragons. I will pay that as well and have already instruction Vayon to setup a meeting. As you gentlemen can see, I have come to Kingslanding with the intent of seeing the realm prosper for my king."

"You are as honorable as they say you are, Lord Stark," Varys stared at him.

"Yes," Ned agreed, "but I am also tired. Let us call for closure to this meeting and resume another day to make plans for the tournament."

Like before he didn't wait for their consent. He just left, and followed the same path as before, and waited for the same thing to happen. For a moment, he had thought that maybe he had been too harsh to Littlefinger and he would not appear, but fate did not disappoint him. For a moment

"You're going the wrong way, Stark. Come with me."

Ned followed him happily. This time he didn't speak a word a Petyr led him outside the castle. He just followed along silently.

He finally spoke when they arrived to the rocky bluff high above the river. "Where are we going?"

Baelish smiled again at him, the same arrogance he always wore. It would be so easy. He could easily over power the man and push him to his death and like Roose Bolton, one of his problems would go away instantly. Yet the same thoughts that crept into his mind after he killed Roose, still lingered now. Petyr Baelish would live for now.

He again stayed silent the rest of the way, all the way to the brothel where Ser Rodrik again met him outside. "Your lady waits for you upstairs," he said again and Ned did his best to act surprised.

Insdie Catelyn was waiting. She cried out happily when she saw him, and he responded in kind. He embraced him warmly and shared a tender kiss with the woman he loved, this time ignoring the jape the left Littlefinger's lips.

"I feared you would never come, my love," she whispered against his chest. "Lord Baelish has been giving me reports. He told me that you didn't have any troubles on the road. I was pleasantly surprised knowing our daughter."

"You can thank Theon Greyjoy when you see him again," Ned smiled. "It was his responsibility to keep her in check. He preformed admirably."

"Enough of that," he added. "What has happened? Why are you here?"

It was easier to act surprised that he thought it would have been. He supposed it was because he knew the stakes of the game he was playing, and knew he had to walk a thin line but still strange. This was an act he could have never carried in his past life. Death had a strange way of changing a man.

Catelyn slid a dagger out from under her cloak, and placed it in his hand. "This blade was sent to open Bran's throat and kill him. Someone sent a man to murder our boy."

He narrowed his eyes for dramatic effect and his voice boomed, "What happened."

She began to speak, and he listened. She told of how there was a fire in the Library tower and how Robb had sensed that something was off and stayed behind to catch the culprit. She poke of Lyarra pinning the man down, and how Robb took his head while she slept from exhaustion. She spoke of Varys and the guardsmen finding her and how they brought her to Lord Baelish who told her he lost that knife to Tyrion in a bet. He found himself fighting the urge to smile. It had all worked out perfectly.

"The Imp's dagger," he repeated, again for effect. It was exactly what he needed to hear, what he wanted to hear, but the odd look Catelyn was giving him gave him cause to pause. She was hiding something. "Why should Tyruon Lannister want bran dead? The boy has never done him harm"

Littlefinger spoke again. "The imp would never act alone."

"You think the Queen had something to do with it," Ned responded slowly and again they had the same conversation about truths and proofs. None of that mattered to him. In the end, Catelyn hadn't been hurt this time, and he had just needed her to act the same as she did before. It was weird that he was so happy with this result.

He had expected her to tell him that she told Littlefinger about their suspicions about Jon Arryn, but she stayed strangely quiet and her face was full of concern. It dawned on him that something had changed, and he almost cursed. The gods were certainly cruel. He needed a reason to dispose the Lannisters, and this moment here played a big part in it.

"You should leave quickly," Ned said. "Once whoever sent the assassin finds out that Bran is still alive surely they will send another to finish the job."

"I do not worry for Bran anymore. Ser Arthur and Jon will be home soon. The wolves loyaly by his bedside, nursing him back to health in ways that I never could. Bran is safe." Catelyn responded. "I worry about you, the girls. I had hoped that we could come up with some excuse to stay."

"That would be most unwise," Littlefinger beat him to the punch. "If the Queen does have something to do with this, then it does not seem smart to have more of you here. "

"He is right my love," Ned agreed. "It is best if you take Ser Rodrick, and ride back to Winterfell with all haste. Go home and keep the boys safe. I will protect the girls. I promise."

When it was all said and done, and they were alone again, after Baelish had left, Ned had went to speak but she had shushed him and waited a few moments longer before she spoke.

"Do not trust Littlefinger," Catelyn said to him, but only after she was completely sure they were alone. That was a shock. She had been so sure that he could trust him in the past life, but now something had changed. "He lies to us."

"What? How?" Ned asked.

"I saw the look in that mans face Ned," Catelyn began. "The one who tried to killed Bran. Robb held Ice to his throat and it was like he could not tell a lie. He spoke of who gave him that dagger. It was not Tyrion Lannister. It was the Prince."

He frowned. That was something he didn't know and it hit him hard. He paused for a moment, trying to review his memories and thoughts. After he died he had saw visions of his children's lives through their own eyes. It was safe to say that they did not know everything but they each taught him something. The relationship that he was able to build with Skagos was directly due to the time Rickon had spent there. He was beginning to realize that they did not know everything. This game was getting more dangerous by the day.

He paused, and sighed. This time he needed for events to run the same. He needed Catelyn to take Tyrion, he needed Tywin to react, needed a reason to crush the Lannister forces. Robb had been a genius on the battlefield in his last life when he was outnumbered, he was keen to see what his son would do now that it would be somewhat even.

"Catelyn," Ned said, sparsely believing the words that were about to release from his lips. "Prince Joffrey may have hired the man, but where do you think he got the dagger? Even if it was just an innocent gift between an uncle and his nephew, we need to know. Tyrion must be questioned. If you run into him on the road, allow Rodrik to take him for questioning. If he is innocent, then so be it, but I the Lannisters must answer for the attack on my son."

"Did you dream it?" Catelyn asked. "Did you dream that I would meet him on the road?"

"No," Ned responded. Technically, it was the truth. "It makes sense that you could. He will travel the kingsroad back here, you will take the kingsroad north."

"You told Robb that the attack could happen. You saw that. Did you not see the culprit? Did you not see that the Lannisters were responsible?"

"It doesn't work like that," Ned sighed. She was starting to question him. Maybe one day, he would tell her the truth, but not here. Not now. "I had a dream of only Bran being attacked after a fire in the library. I told Robb to watch for those signs."

"And what are your dreams telling you now?" she questioned, pushing further.

"War is coming Catelyn," he admitted. "It is a dangerous game we play. I dream it, it is inevitable."

"Can you stop it?" she asked.

He didn't want to. Not this time. Part of him wanted revenge on Tywin for the way he orchestrated Robb's slaughter. The other part of him knew that Jon could never be King with the Lannisters still in power. Plus, there was a more important war coming.

"I'm afraid not," Ned responded after a heavy sigh. "Winter is coming Catelyn. This is the only way that I see that can save the realm."

"If you told me," his wife started, "If you let me help -"

"You are helping," he interrupted. "Just please do this. If you see Tyrion on the road. Take him for questioning. Bring him to the Vale. It must happen exactly as I say."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously but she nodded. He pulled her into another hug and kissed her tenderly. The game was about to begin again.

* * *

A/N: Here is another one. Again I thank you all for your support. Please continue to tell me what you think! Now to respond to some of you,

silverswath: Your absolutely right. I'm a terrible editor, especially when its my own work. If anybody out there is interested in being a beta, please message me.

DivergentWitch: Appreciate that you are enjoying it so far. Thank you!

quickert.9: I look foward to your smiley every chapter! Although, the cynic in me can't tell if it is a good or bad smile lol.

I'll respond to more of you every chapter going forward. Again, thank you all!


	15. Bran II

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this. I wanted to post this a couple of days ago, but Disney + dropped and I've been hooked. Finally took some time out tonight to look at this and make sure I still liked it. I'm not sure I am completely satisfied, but it is what it is! Enjoy! As always thanks for the responses!

* * *

Bran

In the yard below, Rickon ran with the wolves.

He watched solemnly from his window seat. Where his little brother went, Grey Wind was there first, dancing and jumping joyfully around Rickon, who screamed with happiness and tried to run off in the other direction. Shaggydog ran dutifully beside him, doing the best he could to protect Rickon by spinning and snapping if the other wolves got to close. Winter was last. He decided to name him Winter after he woke up.

He dreamed a lot while he was unconscious. He almost felt like father. Father always said that he knew the things he knew because he dreamed them. He didn't get his looks, but at least he would have his ability to dream.

He dreamed of Winterfell, as the eagles saw it. The castle looked majestic from above, a formidable fortress that could not be breached. He saw Maester Luwin in his tower, studying the sky through his tube and frowning as he made notes. He saw his brother Robb, taller and stronger, practicing swordplay in the yard. Ice looked heavy in his hands and Bran could tell he was struggling with the weight.

At the heart of the godswood, the great white weirwood brooded over its reflection in the black pool. Bran felt like the tree could feel him watching him, but it refused to acknowledge him for a while, its eyes pointed south seemingly looking toward his father.

He followed the trees eyes, and saw the great plains of the Trident. He saw his father patting Theon Greyjoy on his shoulder for a job well done, his face etched with relief. He saw Arya and Sansa with Lady and Nymeria lying by the lake staring at the stars. He looked back towards the great weirwood below, and it looked confused, as it expected something else to happen.

It finally acknowledged him them, turning its eyes to stare directly at him, a smile etched upon its face. It seemed happy suddenly. Content.

He looked around to find his mother, and she was east. Her boat looked like it was racing father to Kingslanding. A storm was just ahead of them, but they couldn't see it. He would have done anything to reach out, to warn them but all that came out was quiet swawks and chirps.

Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall, and his brother Jon sitting by the fire with the fire with a Maester. They were deep in conversation, and Ser Arthur was guarding the door. When he looked closer, he could have sworn he saw what looked like an egg resting in the fire.

He looked past the wall then. He saw fear as he looked past it. The same fear that the man felt before father took his head. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and he couldn't take the sight. He cried out, for the first time in a long time, truly afraid.

His father's voice rang in his head. "Winter is coming."

"Now you know why you must live," a raven whispered to him as it sat on his shoulder. It was the same raven he saw before he fell off his horse. It had three eyes, and the third looked like it was full of terrible knowledge. In the end, when Bran felt like he was falling, certain that this was the end, that this raven was giving him one last chance to see his family, it taught him how to fly, and then woke him up.

They were strange dreams. Strange and vivid, something he would never forget. When he woke, all he could hear was his father's voice repeating in his head "Winter is coming." So he decided that Winter would be the perfect name for his wolf.

A large white blur broke him from his thoughts and brought him back to the present. Ghost had joined the fun which meant that Jon was home.

Still, he couldn't help but feel jealous of Rickon, using his legs to run and play happily with the wolves. Maester Luwin told him he might never walk again. William told him to never give up, but lying there in that bed, staring at his legs for hours, willing them to move only for nothing to happen was depressing.

His eyes stung then, and he quickly wiped the tears away. He was almost a man grown, too old to cry but he couldn't helped it. He would give anything to be able to walk again.

"It was just a lie," he said bitterly, remembering the raven from his dream. "I can't fly, I can't even run."

"Ravens are all liars," Old Nan agreed. The woman had taken his mother's place and had been dedicated to him. She sat by his side day and night, getting him anything that he needed. "I know a story about a raven."

"I don't want any more stories," Bran snapped bitterly. "I hate your stupid stories."

"Is that so," Jon called out as he burst through the door, amusement in his eyes. His face was red, and he looked out of breath. He paused to catch it before speaking, "I remember leaving a polite little boy who loved Old Nan's stories like the rest of us. What happened to him?"

Jon pulled up another next to his bed. Ghost was not far behind. Lyarra finally moved from her spot next to him then, to go check on her own son. Ghost was patient unlike the other wolves, he seemed to know that this was inevitable. When she was done, he lied patiently at Jon's feet.

"This happened," Bran muttered angrily, using his arms to point at his legs. Jon smiled sadly at him, grabbing a hold of his ankle. Bran gasped. It tingled the slightest of bits. For a moment it felt as if he could feel the weight of Jon's hand on his ankle, and then it was gone. He had been imagining it. He felt the tears again. Jon frowned and lifted his hand, Bran didn't even feel it go.

"Don't cry," Jon smiled at him. "We will find something brother, I promise."

The door opened with a bang again, and Maester Luwin entered the room with Hodor.

"Oh, Jon your already here," Maester Luwin said and Jon nodded.

"Yes, maester, I came to check on him to see what how he was doing. I planned on bringing him down to the hall with me for our visitors."

"Who is it?" Bran asked.

"Tyrion Lannister," Jon responded. "Robb should be meeting with them now. Ser Arthur took him and his men to the great hall while I came straight for you."

Bran smiled brightly at him. It was always good to see Jon.

"Hodor, please help Bran down to the hall?" Maester Luwin asked.

Hodor lifted him easily, and cradled him against his massive chest. He wished that they wouldn't tell him to do this. It made him feel small. At the same time, he understood it. He didn't really have another way to get around, not when his legs didn't work.

When they arrived at the great hall, Robb was seated in Father's high seat, he was wearing rindmail and boiled leather that had been dyed white and grey to match House Stark's sigil. He almost looked like father up in that chair, his face stern and his eyes cold. Ser Arthur and Hallis Mollen stood behind him.

In the center of the room the dwarf stood with his servants. Bran could sense the anger in the hall the moment that Hodor carried him through the door. Jon sensed it too, he shifted uneasily as he walked through as well.

"What happened while I was gone?" Jon whispered to Bran. He could still shrug, so he did. He wasn't sure why Robb was so angry. He was staring coldly at Tyrion with Ice across his knees.

"I am beginning to feel like I am not welcomed here, boy," Tyrion spoke up.

"I am the lord here while my mother and father are away, Lannister," Robb sneered, rising quickly and pointing Ice. "I am not your boy."

Ser Arthur stepped forward then, whispering furiously in Robb's ear. His brother had the grace to look ashamed, and had they not been in a hall full of guest, Bran was certain that Robb would have received one or Ser Arhur's famous cuffs to the back of his head.

"Ah," Tyrion Lannister spoke. "I see Ser Arthur has reminded you of your courtesies, how grand." Tyrion looked around the room then, and found Jon, who was standing behind Bran.

"Ah Jon, there you are," he said before turning to Bran, "and young Bran. So it is true, the boy lives. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it. You Starks are hard to kill."

Bran was sure that Robb would have said something else if Ser Arthur wasn't behind him, but he kept his mouth shut and tightly nodded. He suddenly rose from his seat and sheathed Ice. "Hodor, bring my brother here."

Again, his body was on the move as Hodor walked forward smiling and set Bran in the high seat of his father. He suddenly felt a great weight on his shoulders. This was the seat of his ancestors, the seat that Starks of Winterfell, once known throughout the North as the Kings of Winter had sat. It was a cold stone, and his hands grasped the heads of the direwolves at the end of the chairs arms. His legs touched the cold stone, and he gasped again. It was cold. His eyes widened and he went to speak but again, as quickly as it came the feeling was gone.

Robb put a hand on shoulder, and he had to force himself not to cry again. Why were the Gods so cruel?

"I am told you were quite the rider Bran," Tryion Lannister started, starting at him with his different colored eyes. Bran was reminded of the weirwood from his dream, Tyrion was studying him just like the tree had. "yet you still fell from a horse and suffered a great injury. Tell me, are you afraid to ride again?"

He hadn't really thought about that. He had been stuck in his own misery and disappointment to think about horses and if he was afraid of them. It never crossed his mind until Tyrion mentioned it then.

Ultimately, he shook his head.

"No," he said more confident than he felt. "If I could ride again tomorrow, I would."

"Good," Tryion responded with a smile. "You took a fall that took your legs and yet your willing to get back up and try again. It is not easy."

Bran smiled weakly. "I suppose."

"I have a gift for you boy," Tyrion said, holding a piece of paper out. "It's the plan for a saddle. You cannot use your legs to command the horse, so you must find a new horse, one that has never been trained and teach it to listen to the reigns and your voice."

He handed the paper over the Maester Luwin. "Only try it if you are ready young Stark. There is no shame in being afraid."

"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran asked.

"If you are up to the task, you will be able to do anything" Tyrion responded, smiling softly at him.

Beside him, Robb seemed puzzled and without Arthur near anymore, he found the bravery to speak again. "Is this some trap, Lannister? Why would you want to help him?"

"I asked him to help, Robb" Jon spoke up, frowning at his brother. Bran didn't understand why Robb was being so hostile.

The door to the yard flew open, and Rickon burst in the room, laughing happily all the way. The direwolves were with him. He stopped at the door, finally realizing what was going on around him, but the wolves came in the room. They found Tyrion, and immediately began to growl. Winter began to growl first, and Grey Wind followed. They were on the prowl then, suddenly stalking toward the man. Tyrion suddenly backed up, and Shaggydog was there, snapping his teeth at him angrily.

Bran went to say something, to speak but Lyarra entered the room. She reminded him so much of his mother. She circled around Tyrion, snapping her teeth at her children angrily. Winter scampered over to him while Grey Wind and Shaggydog went to Robb and Rickon. Lyarra then gently nuzzled Tyrion's hand and the small man smiled.

"Not all of you wolves are so bad after all," Tyrion said. He left soon after that. Robb had tried to be nice to him, and offered him to stay, but it had been to late.

They ate dinner as a family that night in the Great Hall, where the fire had been set up to keep them warm. It had been nice, and made Bran want for a time when the entire pack would be whole again.

After they were finished, Ser Arthur spoke "Jon and I will be leaving again in two days."

"We will?" Jon asked curiously. Bran could tell that Ser Arthur's statement was news to Jon as well.

"Do you have to leave?" Rickon asked.

Ser Arthur ruffled his hair. "I would love to stay and train you little wolf but your lord father has another mission for me to complete."

"What is that?" Robb questioned.

"He wants me to bring a letter to your Uncle Edmure," Ser Arthur said plainly, "doesn't trust it to be delivered by a raven, you know how your father is about ravens."

Jon laughed loudly at that, and Robb cracked the first genuine smile Bran had in days.

"Nothing to serious, I hope" Robb questioned further and Ser Arthur sighed.

"I'm not sure," Ser Arthur responded honestly. "You know me and your father's relationship, he asks me to do things and I do them. Hopefully Jon will one day do the same for you."

Robb stared at Ser Arthur strangely, and if Bran wasn't paying attention he would have missed the glances the knight sent at Rickon and himself. They were hiding something.

That night he dreamed again. It was another strange dream but so vivid he would never forget. Jon stood, Ghost beside him, with a crown atop his head. He was laughing, and smiling. Robb knelt before him, with his own amused look in his eyes.

"It looks like the roles have reversed, Targaryen," Robb spoke. "I am Ser Arthur and you are father."

Jon laughed again before turning serious. "Aye Stark, and it is a dangerous task. Winter is coming. I need you to bring my aunt home."

In the distance, he heard a dragon roar.

* * *

A/N: Dm's still open if anyone is interested in being my beta! We are at the point where some things from cannon are obviously gonna start to change, and have changed, while somethings will admittedly stay the same. Ned has a plan, which isn't obvious yet based on some of your responses. I hope thats a good thing.

Anyway again, thanks for the responses! Jon is next I think. When? I'm not sure. Pokemon comes out tomorrow (or today I suppose since its 12:05 Am right now), same with the new Star Wars game, so I'll be busy for sure. At least my wife won't bother me much because the new Sims expansion drops as well. When I first started this, I wanted to try to post on Wednesdays and Sundays but that has become hard with life and work and video games and what not.

So until next time, keep getting up after you fall!


	16. Sansa I

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Been busy with the holidays, my sister came up from North Carolina with my two wonderful nieces who I haven't seen sense they were babies so I didn't write a lot for a while. I should be back to posting regularly now unless something comes up =).

Also, I haven't been doing this, and I will probably go back and edit one in for each chapter, but I obviously don't own ASOIAF or GOT in which this story draws inspiration from obviously.

* * *

Sansa

King's Landing was not what she thought it was going to be. She expected a gorgeous city full of happiness and life. She expected everything to be as pretty and wonderful as her songs. Full of knights, full of love, full of laughter.

She knew it was all a lie when a few miles out she smelled the stench. When she was little, her father would take Arya and herself to the glass gardens of Winterfell and let them smell the winter roses.

"You'll never smell a flower so sweet," he had told them. How right he had been. Roses, and not even those of winter, did not exist in King's Landing. Sure, the city was large and full of people, but it didn't hold the majesty of Winterfell. She would not lie and say she didn't enjoy the weather, but still, Winterfell was home.

Still, the splendor and excitement of the tournament in her father's name did lift her spirits. She hadn't been quite herself sense she left Winterfell. Arya was right, boys were stupid. She learned that the hard way when Domeric chose the stupid Dreadfort over her. He was supposed to come with her and be her knight in shining armor. The songs were all lies.

She rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole. Lady lay at her feet calmly, much to the dismay of her Septa.

"That wolf is the most behaved member of this party," her father had said, dismissing Septa Mordane's protest. She smiled at him gratefully, Lady's presence was calming and made her feel powerful.

They waited for Arya for a while, but Sansa knew she wouldn't come. At first she laughed at the thought of Arya willingly taking dancing lessons, but when her sister confided to her what she was really doing, she couldn't help but feel jealous. She wasn't a fan of the sword, but she would love to be able to find some place quiet and shoot her bow again. Much like Arya had packed away her secret sword, Sansa too had packed away the weirwood bow her father had made for her last name day.

She looked through the curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them, and saw the river. A hundred pavilions had been raised on the banks of the river just outside the city walls. The common folk came in droves, and the excitement in the air was palpable. She couldn't help but be in awe of it all.

Beside their carriage, Theon, and the other guards from the North rode along with them. They locked eyes for a moment, and he smiled at her and made a funny face. She couldn't help but giggle. She was glad he had come with them. He had done his best to cheer her up. Theon always knew how to make her laugh, and smile. Her father had appointed him her guard around the castle, and he seemed to take his job seriously.

There was only one person from outside the North in their party. He was a young boy from the Vale that used to be the late Lord Arryn's squire. Her father had taken him in the house hold soon after they arrived in King's Landing, but she heard the guards saying her father would be sending him home soon. A ship from house Manderly was due in the city just after the tournament was over, and apparently father planned to offer the boy safe passage out of the city.

She couldn't help but wonder why her father was so interested in the boy. She supposed it had been due to his love of Lord Arryn, but she couldn't be quite sure. In the end, it didn't matter. It was not of her concern.

Her father had rode ahead to meet with the King, but promised to come sit with them. He wasn't their when they arrived at the seats he had promised, but Sansa knew he would be busy with the King. They sat among the high lords and ladies, who parted quickly as Lady led the way. Sansa walked beside her gracefully, but had to suppress a giggle. The the lords and ladies of the court, Lady was a scary wolf that could kill, to Sansa, her direwolf looked silly prancing her way to their seats.

She wasn't naive, and knew they would never see Lady as she saw her, but that was okay. She was of the North. There were just somethings that these Southern people wouldn't understand.

Before she knew it, the spectacle that was her father's tourney had began. The heroes from song had ridden into the field, each looking more spectacular from the last. The seven knights of the Kingsgaurd took the field, all but the Kingslayer in the classic white armor of the Kingsgaurd. He was dressed in Lannister gold, which his own golden sword to match.

"What a waste," he father spoke from behind her. He had finally made his way down to them. She couldn't help but agree with him. Her father wasn't exactly frugal, but he would never spend that much coin on something like a golden sword.

Ser Gregor Clegane thundered past them angrily, and Sansa couldn't help but shudder. Ser Arthur never spoke ill of any man, but she knew there was a special hatred that he held for Ser Clegane and Ser Jamie. Any time either of them were brought up, he would spit in disgust.

"Dishonorable, the both of them," he had told them all multiple times.

The hound entered the list as well, and so did the king's brother Lord Renly. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the North. Jory was one of the best outfitted men in the list. He wore brand new scale armor that shined in the sunlight, and his shield was a beautiful piece adored with the ten white wolves of house Cassel. He represented his family and the North well.

He was quite successful in the tournament as well, unhorsing Horas Redwayne in his first house, and one of the Freys in his second. He too, like Jon and Robb, had taken personal lessons with Ser Arthur since he was a boy, and those lessons showed well on the jousting field. In his third match he managed to knock Lother Brune off his horse on the third try, and Sansa found her self rising to cheer loudly with the rest of the northern party.

The Kingslayer rode as if he were born to joust. He easily defeated his first two opponents and then took a hard fought match from Ser Selmy, a man that her father and Ser Arthur spoke highly of. She stood up and cheered him when he lifted himself from the dirt. He fought as valiantly as her father described him.

Sandor Clegane and his brother, the Mountain, seemed just as unstoppable as the Kingslayer. The most terrifying moment of the day came durring Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and stuck an old knight from the Stormlands with so much forth that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The old man fell right near where they were seated.

Behind her, her father turned to the young knight from the vale and spoke grimly, "that could have been you." She then watched as her father dropped his head and said a silent prayer for the man. It was sad, she realized. She didn't even know the old knights name. She doubted anybody else did either.

After they carried off the body, a boy ran on the field and shoveled dirt to cover up the blood. Then the joust resumed as if nothing happened. King's Landing was definitely not Winterfell.

When it was all said and done, only four participants remained in the joust. The hound and his brother, the Kingslayer, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.

Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell. She knew a lot about the house Tyrell of Highgarden. Father often spoke about them during the lessons that Robb, Jon and her had with him due to the trade that had developed between Highgarden and Salt Harbor.

At sixteen, he was the youngest rider in the field, yet he unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three matches. Ser Arthur had said that if father had let Robb or Jon compete in these tournaments, they would be just a famous as the Knight of Flowers, but after watching him in action, she doubted it. Jon wasn't a fan of jousting, and while Robb was good, he wasn't that good.

She had never seen a person so beautiful either, and when he stopped to give her a red rose after his final victory, she began to feel that maybe the songs were true. Maybe she was wrong about King's Landing, maybe this Loras Tyrell was the knight they sang of.

When Sansa finally looked up, she saw a man standing off to the side, staring at her. He was short, with a pointed beard, with a silver streak in his hair. Her father had gave him a hard glare, but the man seemed to ignore him.

"You must be one of her daughters," he said to her softly. "You have the Tully look."

"Aye," he father responded. "This is my daughter Sansa, Lord Baelish."

The tone of her father's voice put Lady at edge, and she began to growl lowly at the man. She quickly ran her fingers through her head to cal her, and smiled at the man. "I have not had the honor to meet you, Lord Baelish."

Her father's words to her siblings and her rang loudly in her head. "Trust you wolves judgment, they will never lead you astray."

If Lady was on edge around the man, she would be as well. He took one look at her father, and decided not to speak the words that were on the tip of his tongue. Instead he walked away.

By then darkness fell upon the city, so King Robert had declared that the last three matches would be fought in the morning before the melee. While the common folk were sent home, the king's court moved to the riverside to begin the feast.

She sat with her father, to the left of the King and Queen. She smiled happily when Theon sat himself to her right on her fathers orders. Prince Joffrey didn't seemed to pleased about that. It looked like he was about the take that exact seat when her father gave his order. She was glad it wasn't Joffrey who sat next to her.

In the Riverlands, when she last spoke to him, Prince Joffrey spoke mostly of himself. She often found herself wondering what Arya was up to, which was quite shocking, because she never once wondered that before. Arya proved herself right that day. Boys were stupid.

Prince Joffrey was just as stupid as Domeric, although she would never say it out loud. He treated those men in the Riverlands, the men who fed them and gave up their home, like dirt beneath his feet. He treated poor Mycah, the butchers boy ever worst, and Sansa wasn't sure if the boy wouldn't have been attacked if it weren't for Theon. While the Prince was almost a beautiful as Loras Tyrell, she couldn't ignore his character, not after all the lessons that her father and mother had taught her. She was glad that her father did not immediately agree to the betrothal. She couldn't see herself happy with him.

Theon, though was on his best behavior. During feast at Winterfell, he would often make crude jokes that caused her mother to snap at him, only for him to look away sheepishly. Here in King's Landing it was like he was a completely different person.

He was still confident, still Theon, but much better behaved. When he wasn't guarding her and taking her on walks around the castle, he could be found in the yard training with his bow and sword. She had even heard some other guards express their shock that he hadn't once been to visit a brothel. She wasn't sure what caused the change, or what her father had been telling him to cause the change, but she quite enjoyed his company.

"No," King Robert thundered suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts. He had been louder and louder the more he drank, but she had managed to ignore him for the most part. This time he would not be ignored. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at his Queen.

Next to her her father sighed and shook his head. She stared, shocked at the King and couldn't help but be reminded of Prince Joffrey's own rage in the Riverlands. Suddenly he had knocked over the Kingslayer and was laughing.

"Remember that, Kingslayer," he slurred. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!"

Her father laughed which caught the attention of the room. "I seem to recall besting that hammer of yours with my sword a few times in Lord Arryn's yard."

King Robert laughed and turned jolly again. "Aye, you did but even you, the man who defeated the great Arthur Dayne, would fall to me."

Her father laughed along. She could tell it was fake. Her father spoke often of southern politics, and seemed to be adjusting well from what she saw. She was sure that the king hadn't been in the yard in years. Her father trained often with Ser Arthur, Robb, Jon, and even Bran sometimes. She was confident that her father would easily beat the king and his hammer. Somethings were best left unsaid.

"It grows late my little wolf," her father spoke to her after the king went back to his wine. "Theon, escort her to the castle please."

Theon quickly got a torch to light their way to the castle. Sansa followed closely behind him in a comfortable silence. Lady padded right along. She finally broke it, "I hear you will compete in the archery competition tomorrow."

"Aye," Theon smiled. "I can't wait. I hope to win."

"I have little doubt that you will," Sansa replied with a smile of her own. "You are the best bowman in all of the North."

"Your not too bad yourself," Theon responded.

She paused for a moment before speaking again. "I miss it. I haven't been able to find time and space to shoot here in King's Landing."

Theon frowned, seemingly deep in thought. "After the tournament, we can find a place in the godswood when you take Lady for a walk if you want."

"That would be great," Sansa found herself smiling again. She was looking forward to it. They walked the rest of the way to the tower, the only noise between them was the humming of her song. It had been a great day.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it. Our first pov from Sansa, who is not the same girl from the book or the show. Hope you like the changes I've made to her character, as the Sansa in this story is very different from the Sansa in the book or the show at this same point. This is a girl who grew up taking lessons on how to run a house hold, while learning how to defend herself and be a lady all at the same time. She still believes in the songs, but obviously wouldn't be as naive as she was at this point int the book or show, as this story contains elements from both.

Obviously, we also have a little time skip here. I did write chapters for Jon's journey to Riverrun, which I didn't post because nothing of circumstance happened, and I also have a chapter of Catelyn capturing Tyrion. Nothing really changed there, so I decided not to post that either.

The other change I've made here was saving Jon Arryn's squire. I read somewhere that GRM said that perhaps Ser Hugh's death was just a case of Gregor being Gregor. That actually makes sense to me and I think that a Ned who knows the future would have taken steps to question him, and then when he determined the boy was innocent, arrange for him to go home. I had this happen off screen, but our next chapter is the Ned POV covering the end of the Tournament which will discuss it more.

As always, I appreciate all of your likes, reviews, and favorties. You guys are great!

Until next time!


	17. Ned IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own GOT and only write for fun.

* * *

Eddard

That night Ned dreamed of his own death for the first time in years. He could hear the crowd jeering at him and screaming. He could feel the objects thrown against his body, as if they were there, throwing things at him as he lied in his bed. He could see King Joffrey giving the signal to remove his head and watched as the look of horror replaced Sansa's hopeful facade.

He then felt the weight of Ice, sharp against his neck and he woke up again, his breath was heavy, eyes wide. He was wide awake then. It was hard to go back to sleep after such a dream. Even harder when he knew it was all real.

He found himself in the same places, playing the same parts as he did before. He knew when his moment to strike would be, knew it was coming, but still knew he must weight. Still, his actions weighed heavy on his mind.

"I stood vigil for him myself," Ser Barristan said, breaking him from his thoughts. It was the same as before, just a different body. This time instead of Ser Hugh, it was a random knight from the stormlands that Ned could not put a name to. "He had no on else. A mother who died long ago, but that was it."

It amazed him how similar this seemingly unknown man and Ser Hugh were. The gods had seen it fit to replace one life with one death. The thought of it frightened Ned. Arthur lived, so Roose had to die but Roose died the first time so did that count? Or would another still die in his place?

"We all die in the end," his father would say but back then, when he was alive it felt so distant, so far away. Now that he had lived twice, it never felt so real… but then again, what if he were cursed? What if the gods had seen it fit to torture him by reliving the same life over and over again as punishments for his mistakes?

There was only one way to find out. To die again. The gods were cruel.

"He fought by King Robert's side during his rebellion," Ser Barristan added. "He was valiant, and brave, everything a true knight of the seven kingdoms should be. The last of a dying breed."

"The valiant never taste of death but once," Ned responded. Ser Barristan gave him an odd look but Ned didn't care. It was time to convince Robert not to be an idiot again.

Each time, it grew harder and harder to not let the man make his mistakes. It had seemed so obvious to him, this time around, what Cersei was trying to set him up for. If it were this obvious in his past life, Ned would have tried to save him. This time, while he would not kill his friend himself, he had zero inclinations to save him either. Had Robert been the man he once was, Ned would of thought about it.

He was no longer that man.

"The King means to fight in the melee today," Ser Barristan said as they were passing the many pavilions set up along to way to Robert's own. Ned just shook his head grimly. He wasn't interested in this conversation, not this time.

He had wanted to let Robert fight, but it was too soon for his death, Ned wasn't ready yet. It wasn't time for him to strike yet, and he knew he had to be patient. Events would unfold just as they had before in the capital, he just had hoped that he was making the right choice.

He had found his friend in the same exact condition as he did last time, drinking beer from a horn and getting angry because his old armor did not fit.

This time, Ned couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe if you spent some time in the yard, that armor of yours would fit."

It was a bit brazen for sure, but with Robert Ned knew what he could get away with and what he couldn't. He would try to argue less with the man this time around. He would enjoy the time they had left, try to remember why they had been friends in the first place.

Robert's laughter boomed throughout the tent, suddenly, and was gone as quick as it came. "Ah, damn you, Ned, why are you always right?"

"I've been right since we were boys," Ned responded, "you were just never smart enough to listen."

Robert smirked. "And what honorable advice would the great Ned Stark give me now?"

"I would say that your in zero condition to participate in a melee. I would say that you look like you haven't been in a training yard in years, and if you have, those men around you would rather dance and play politics then truly challenge you in that yard. No man here is brave enough truly challenge you and risk injuring their king."

"You too?" the king frowned. "Are you like my wife, the blasted woman thinks I should not fight in either. I thought you would be different. Tell me, what happened to the boy who rose at the light of the first son to practice his sword? Tell me the north hasn't frozen all of that out of you."

"Life happened," Ned responded simply. "As it must. You are the king now. Surely you understand that."

"I never wanted this damn crown," Robert roared as suddenly as his laughter before. "I sit on the damn iron seat when I must, but I miss the days where me and you rode around the vale picking fights and stealing girls. Those were the days."

"I never stole any girl," Ned responded.

"Still honorable as ever, I see," Robert said. "What was the name of the girl you fucked during the war, the bastards mother? What I would pay to meet her, the woman who thawed Ned Stark."

"It is not important," Ned responded through gritted teeth.

"Aye," Robert responded, "but am I not the same as other men? I want to hit someone, to feel what it would be to have a man crushed under my hammer. That is living."

Ser Barristan found it in himself to speak up again. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?"

Robert glared at him hard, as taken aback by his words as he was before. "All of them, if they can. And the last man left standing…."

"Will be you," Ned finished for him again with a tired sigh, he then spoke quietly. "Or maybe it won't be. We believe someone poisoned our foster-father Lord Aaryn, what if this is their opportunity to get rid of you. Make it look like an accident?"

Robert narrowed his eyes at him before he spoke again, his voice dangerous, "Is that what you think? That this is some rouse for someone to try to kill me?"

"I only see space and opportunity. If you want to fight so bad, meet me in the yard tomorrow. I'll get you into shape but only a fool of a man as important as you would allow your guard down to fight in some stupid tournament. I don't take you as a fool my friend, I never have. We must focus on finding out what happened to Jon, not some fleeting glory."

He raged again. He shouted and threatened Ser Barristan with his life he did not leave. He spoke about the same things he had done before, about giving up the crown, about how he wouldn't because of Joffrey and Cersei. For a while it was just like his old life. With Robert telling stories of the Vale, and him laughing and smiling more eager than before. He would enjoy it while he could.

Robert would be dead soon, and as hard as it sometimes was, there was nothing he would do about it.

* * *

He had found Sansa in the same spot as she was the day before, this time alone as Septa Mordane had fallen sick again. He didn't mind it as much this time as he did the last. He quite enjoyed spending more time with his daughters. He had all the answers this time, he just had to fake like he didn't, so it made it much easier to spend time around the castle with Sansa, or even feeling like a fool practicing his balance with Arya.

It was one of the best things about living twice, and some of the only times he felt blessed to do this life all over again, not so that he could change things, but so he could feel a couple things twice. Spending this time with his daughter was one of those.

"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced loudly as Jamie Lannister entered the list.

"Done," Lord Renly shouted back. "The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning."

"I have to say I agree with you, Renly," Ned spoke confidently with a smirk. The joys of knowing th future. "The Hound will win."

"Then I have a hundred golden dragons for you as well Lord Stark," Littlefinger said smugly, his voice filled with as much confidence.

Ned smiled back sweetly, "surely a man of your stature wouldn't offer me a bet so low. Five hundred golden dragons?"

He truly enjoyed putting Baelish down every time he could. Eventually, he would force the man to spill every sin he had ever committed before taking his head. It was a thought that pleased him much more than it should have.

The two participants rode hard and fast at each other. It was the same as before, the Hound's lance smacked harmlessly against the Kingslayers golden shield before he was nearly knocked off his horse.

The Hound was an interesting man. The visions that the gods gave him of his children showed him having a complicated relationship with both of his girls. He had tried his best to keep Sansa from Joffrey's wrath. He had gone from a name on Arya's list to a man she had come to respect before she left him to die by that tree.

None of that would happen again. Sansa would not be left in King's Landing, and Arya certainly wouldn't be traveling by herself in the Riverlands. Sure, being a faceless man might be useful, but again, death hadn't changed him that much. Both of his daughters would be on a Manderly ship back to the North before anything got too dangerous in the capital.

"I wonder how I will spend your money," Littlefinger called out but Ned just smiled, and laughed loudly once Jamie was knocked off his horse.

Sansa stood, cheering politely for the hound, but the comment he expected her to make was not made. He wondered why, briefly, but the thought passed just as quickly. This version of his daughter had not spent as much time around Joffrey, because of Theon, and so she had not spent enough time around the hound to believe in him enough to make the statements she had before.

"A pity that the imp is not here with us," Lord Renly said. "We would have won twice as much."

"Really," Ned laughed. It was funny, the comments never noticed before, he heard them now, much louder and much clearer. "Why is that?"

"He would never bet against Jamie," Renly responded as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ned smiled at Renly, "That's good to know."

* * *

That afternoon Theon won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and a boy named Anguy from the Dornish Marches. Anguy was good, but Theon was great. Still, Ned sent Alyn to seek Anguy out and offer him a position with his guard. This time the boy, ten thousand gold dragons shorter, was happy to accept and eager to prove himself.

The melee was the same.

That night at the feast, he had expected for Theon to waste his riches on woman and wine, but the boy, to his surprise, did neither. Instead, he stayed by Sansa and Arya all night, dancing and laughing and having a good time.

He gathered the northmen around and called for quiet. "A toast," he said, raising his glass high. "To Theon! Though not my son by blood but my son by choice, you performed valiantly today and the North is glad to have you call it home."

Ned was happy for him, but the ghost of his betrayal still ran through his mind but in the end, he knew what kind of man Theon would become. For now, he would have to be kept close.

"To Theon!" Sansa shouted, laughing and smiling happily with her sister next to her.

Theon smiled happily at them all, "Thank you, Lord Stark."

Ned pulled him aside and whispered so that only Theon could hear, "when the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies..."

"but the pack survives," Theon interrupted, looking up at him hopefully.

"Aye," Ned responded with a nod, "and you're apart of that pack. I do hope you understand that. I'm as proud of you as I am of any of my other children. When we return home, I'll give you a keep of your own and find you a wife."

Theon was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again "and when my father dies?"

It was a question. A very valid and important question. "Then I will personally make sure you take his place as Lord of the Iron Islands. With Robb on the seat of Winter, and you on the seat of the Sea, this realm will know nothing but prosperity for a long time."

"I think I would like that Lord Stark," Theon said with a smile.

* * *

Much later, after he had taken the girls back through the city and seen them both safe in bed, he ascended to his own chambers. He went to the window and opened it to lett the cool night air rush in and cool his room. Gods he missed the North.

Across the Great Yard, he noticed the same things as he did before, yet still it was interesting to watch, to see what he could find that was new. It didn't take him too long before he saw a hooded girl darting through the fields with a bow on her back, and Theon close behind. Only the masterfully groomed grey fur of a direwolf gave away the identity of the girl.

He shook his head a smiled. They were headed for the godswood. It looked like his daughter wanted to practice her bow again, not that he could blame her. She didn't have much time for it here in the capital, and was to much like her mother to practice it openly.

"Alyn," Ned called and waited for the man to enter the room. "It looks like Sansa has decided to sneak out and practice her bow in the godswood. Theon and Lady are with her so I worry not about her safety. Still, send ten men down there after them but tell them to be discrete."

"Is that all my lord?" Alyn asked and Ned shook his head. He left quickly and Ned was left alone with just his thoughts. Everything had been going according to plan. Lord Stannis had not returned to King's Landing for the tourney. Lysa Arryn held her silence behind the high walls of the Eyrie. The squire was alive this time, but he knew very little about what happened to Jon.

Before he was led to believe that the boy had to know something, which is why someone had him killed, but the death of the knight from the stormlands just let him know what he always knew. Gregor was a rabid dog that needed to be put down. He was confident that Ser Arthur would be able to take him alive. Ser Gregor would be Jon's gift to Dorne.

Everything that he had prepared for was almost here. All he had to do was wait.

Harwin knocked on his door softly, and Ned smiled. Finally.

"A man to see you, my lord," Harwin called. "He will not give his name."

"Send him in," Ned said and when the two entered he spoke again, "you can leave us Harwin."

After his personal guard had left, he turned back to the window, facing away from the man. "Lord Varys, you can take off your disguise now."

"Lord Stark," Varys responded, careful not to let the shock linger long in his voice. Ned held back laughter.

"Your disguises are getting sloppy Lord Varys," Ned said after he turned back to him and poured him wine.

"How did you know?" Varys asked his voice shaking slightly.

" A little bird told me you were on the way," Ned responded with a smile. He wanted Varys to be nervous.

Varys ignored him with a false smile of his own. "I do not mean to keep you long my lord. There are things you must know. You are the King's Hand, and the king.."

"Is a fool," Ned interrupted him this time not being able to stop himself from smirking. "Trust me Varys, I know. Robert is a fool, but he is my best friend and my king. Tell me something I don't know."

Varys paused before speaking again. "I assume you know he is doomed. Unless you save him."

"Yes," Ned responded. "The Queen tried to kill him today didn't she? A stupid plan on her part. Robert may be out of shape, but he would have been hard to kill in that melee. Injure yes, maim maybe, but kill? No. That would not have happened. Yet still, for the good of the realm, I talked him out of it. Your welcome."

"So you knew," Varys asked him, again trying his best to keep his shock from his voice.

"Don't be so surprised Lord Varys," Ned responded. "What do you think I am? A fool? No, Cersei has gone desperate. She is hiding something but that does not matter. What does is that you knew of the plot and decided not to tell me."

"I must confess, Lord Eddard, I was curious to see what you would do. Why not come to me? You ask, and I must answer. I did not trust you, my lord."

"Yes, you had to see where my loyalties are tied to," Ned responded. "I assume that you now know?"

"For a certainty," he smiled. I begin to comprehend why the queen fears you so much. Oh, yes I do."

Ned laughed. "You lie and pivot very well. I expect nothing less from a Master of Whispers that served under Aerys but somehow convinced Robert to keep his head."

Varys went to speak again, but Ned interrupted him "You say you trust me, yet you still have not told me how Jon Arryn died. You are the Master of Whispers and you expect me to believe that you do not know? You expect me to believe that you don't know who did it?"

"You did not ask," Varys responded.

"I didn't have to," Ned said back. "The years of Lys killed my friend Jon Arryn. I begged that man to use a taster in my letters, and once you knew what was coming, I guarantee you did the same. He didn't listen, and now he is dead. That is not important. Who gave him the poison?"

"Some dear sweet friend who often shared meat and meat with him no doubt. Oh, but which one? There were many such. Lord Arryn was a kindly, trusting man." He sighed. "There was one boy. All he was, he owed Jon Arryn, but when the widow fled to the Eyrie with her household, he stayed in King's Landing and prospered."

It was truly a wonder, being alive twice. In his past life, when he didn't understand men like Varys spoke in riddles and half truths, he didn't catch the meaning of his words. This time it was as clear as day to him. He was blaming Littlefinger.

"I spoke to Ser Hugh," Ned responded calmly, he would play this game. For now. "He is innocent. The boy is as naive as you thought me to be."

"You are certain," Varys asked and Ned smiled. Varys was persistent, and Ned knew he would never get the man to admit whom he was truly talking about, Lord Baelish. He ignored them, and did a pivot of his own.

"Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for fourteen years. What was he doing that they had to kill him?"

"Asking questions," Varys said and slipped out the door. Ned wanted to stop him, to say more but it was best to stop now, he didn't want anything to slip.

* * *

AN: Here is the next installment. I threw in a Shakespeare quote and some Drake lyrics in here. While the Shakespeare quote should be obvious, kudos to those of you who find the lyrics.

I always interpreted the that quote by Varys about they boy in the Vale who owed everything to Lord Arryn to be about Littlefinger, but Ned, with the death of Ser Hugh, and whose POV the quote is in, took it to be about Ser Hugh. I just thought that Varys was using Ser Hugh as an example.

As always appreciate your reviews, your favorites, all of that. Still looking for a beta if anyone is interested. Not sure who the next chapter will be. I have a few ideas. I know I said before it would be Jon, and it still might be, but I am not quite sure yet.

Anyway,

Until Next time!


	18. Jon III

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Jon

The large ruby that sat in the middle of the sword shined brightly even in the night's sky. The pommel, a wonderful peace of craftsmanship by Mikkon, was a spitting image of ghost and his father had given Mikkon two matching rubies for the eyes. The sword felt powerful in his hands, he couldn't explain it.

"When you hold Dawn," he had asked Ser Arthur, "Do you feel what I feel?"

It was a stupid question. He didn't even know what he meant, but Ser Arthur knew.

"Aye," he responded simply. "Dawn and Dark Sister, they are not that different. What little magic left in this world can be found in these blades. They are not simple swords, but blades held by the strongest knights, conquerors and kings. There is a price to pay wielding such a weapon, and I believe that we all leave a piece of ourselves in them when its said and done."

Since that day, Jon often what piece of himself he would leave to Dark Sister. When his children, and his children's children picked up this blade what would remind them of him?

Ghost's low growl broke him from his thoughts. His wolf, always the one to stand guard while he practiced with Dark Sister, rose from his position on the ground and growled in the clearing.

"Oh quiet you deranged pup," he heard Ser Arthur call out to him.

Jon smiled. Ser Arthur was the only person who got the courtesy of a warning from Ghost. Had that been anyone else in that clearing, they would have found themselves painfully pinned the ground with a snarling direwolf in their face. "Its a sign that he respects you," Jon said. "Anyone else..."

"Would have a face full of foul dog breath and a mound of dirt to clean out of their hair. The rivermen, the cowards that they are, have outright refused to retrieve you these days. You need to control your mutt," Ser Arthur responded playfully, and Ghost barked happily back at him. It was strange the relationship between Ser Arthur and Ghost. It was like they both understood they had the same goal as much as Jon hated it. They both just wanted to protect him.

"Anything change?" Jon asked. While the riverlands were definitely a beautiful place, he had to admit he had grown bored. They were just camped out, waiting to move. Everyday Ser Arthur trained him and the other boys, while the men around him went out scouting.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Ser Arthur hadn't told Robb the entire truth. He had first understood that their mission was something different when they arrived in Salt Harbor. They were greeted by uncle Benjen, who had five hundred men waiting for them.

"I've given you my best trained men," Benjen told them before turning to Ser Arthur discreetly. He tried to be quiet about it but Jon heard them anyway. "The boys that Ned requested are here too. Keep him safe."

They didn't stay at Salt Harbor for long. Ser Arthur wanted to travel swiftly, and as soon as they landed in Seagard by boat, they were on the way to Riverrun within a day.

Jon asked Ser Arthur what the rush was, and like always Ser Arthur had been honest with him. "Lord and Lady Stark believe that the Lannisters had something to do with the assassin that attacked Bran, and should Lady Catelyn see Tyrion Lannister on the road she will take him for questioning."

The problem with that answer was that it didn't make sense. How could his father have possibly gotten a letter to Ser Arthur that fast telling him his intentions. How did they know that Lady Stark would be successful capturing Lord Tyrion, or that she would even run him on the road?

He got half an answer at Riverrun, where Edmure Tully asked the same questions on behalf of his father. Jon never saw Hoster Tully. Ser Arthur met with him alone in his solar, and wouldn't speak about him. Jon understood that Edmure had been hiding something immediately.

Hoster must have been sick and Jon felt bad for Lady Stark. There was very little chance that she knew. If she had, Jon was sure she would have been there, in Riverrun, a long time ago.

"Family, duty, honor," she had once told him, "those are my family words. As long as you live in my household, you will understand them as well as you understand that winter must come."

They stayed inside the walls of Riverrun for a fortnight before they left. While they were there, all Ser Arthur had them do was train and follow instructions. It was hard work, but Jon found himself enjoying being in the training yard. These were Benjen's best trained men, and he knew he could learn a lot by practicing his sword against them.

He found out that the boys his father requested go with them were named Pyp, Grenn, and Sam. Pyp and Grenn had been training at Moat Caitlin to prepare for the wall for many moons before Benjen had told them they would be going south instead.

Sam was different. His father had told him that he would either take the black or suffer a life ending injury hunting so he chose to live and serve at the Wall. Apparently, he wasn't good enough to be the heir of Hornhill. Lord Tarly, however, did not know about the new standards put in place for the Watch. Sam was dropped off by his escorts at Moat Cailin before they were turned away.

He was a large man, but Jon could tell his training with uncle Benjen had allowed the boy to shed a few pounds. He would never be a master swordsman, but the boy had a quick mind, and uncle Benjen had put him to use under his steward at Moat Cailin.

"I'll make a deal with you," Sam told Jon his uncle Benjen said when he first arrived at the Moat. "You will train under me for a year before returning home to Hornhill. If your father is not impressed with you then, you may return but you will not go to the wall unless it is your absolute wish. Instead I would have you serve my household."

It was a generous offer. Too generous, and a bit random for his uncle Benjen. Just like it was a bit random for Sam, or Pyp or Gren to be sent with Benjen's best men in the first place. When he asked Ser Arthur why he thought Benjen sent them Ser Arthur just shrugged, "must of though you needed boys your age to be with."

Another half truth.

When they left Riverrun, Hoster had given Ser Arthur another two hundred men. When he looked up to the sky, he could see the ravens fly fast and free. Hoster was summoning his lords.

They settled outside of Pinkmaiden along the redfork. The stars were out that night, shining brightly against the open sky. He was waiting patiently for Ser Arthur to speak again.

"News has reached us that Lady Stark has captured Lord Tyrion. Tywin Lannister will retaliate soon. Lord Stark..." Ser Arthur paused for a moment, thinking, before speaking again, "Lord Stark says he had a dream about it. What do you northerners call it? Green Dreams?"

Jon nodded.

"He said that he dreamed Lord Lannister would send the Mountain to raid the riverlands while he prepared for war. I thought he was crazy sending you and me out here off the strength of his dreams..." Ser Arthur paused again, "but Lord Stark has been dreaming a long time and all of them seem to come true. Your father Rhaegar and Lord Stark really aren't that different really. Both always had a dream."

"Finally,"Jon responded angrily, "the truth. I knew it must be something important for us to be out here just waiting."

"Aye," Ser Arthur responded. "I wanted to tell you immediately what we were doing here, but you know Lord Stark, he insist that we keep our plans as quiet as possible."

"If he wants me to be ki..." Jon started hotly.

"I know," Ser Arthur interrupted. "I've told him as much but he doesn't want to burden you too much. He didn't even want you to come with me in the first place. I had to talk him into it."

"This is dangerous Jon," Ser Arthur stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why," Jon asked.d. "If it were anyone but me out here with you, I would have insisted you stay in Winterfell as well."

"Why didn't you?" Jon questioned him again.

"I left my king alone once before," Ser Arthur said. "It cost him his life."

"If it all goes to plan," Jon said, the weight of his words not lost on him. "We will capture Gregor Clegane."

Ser Arthur nodded grimly and Jon spoke, anger and sorrow rising as he continued, "He raped Elia Martell, made her watch as he smashed my brother's head against a stone wall."

Ser Arthur spoke but Jon was too angry to hear him, too upset to listen. It was strange. He didn't even get to know them, but the anger he felt, the pain, it was as real as it ever had been. He imagined crossing swords in the yard with Aegon, or picking on Rhaeny's...

"I'll take his head myself," Jon said, hatred seeping out, his fathers words echoing in his head. "Those who pass judgment must swing the sword."

* * *

A/N: So we finally catch up with Jon and Arthur here and I hope that it doesn't feel rushed and I hope Pyp, Grenn, and Sam don't feel like people I just threw in there to have them there.

Originally none of them would be in this story because Jon wasn't going to the Watch and they were. When I came up with the changes I did for the Wall, I realized that well maybe they could be there. If Ned knew that they were good friends of Jon before and that they would be staying at the Moat for a while before going off to Castle Black, then it made sense for me to have them sent with Jon.

The only thing that kind of bothered me about is that we don't exactly know what Pyp or Grenn did to be sent to the watch (at least I don't and if there is an official reason out there let me know). We do know that in Westeros, something like petty theft could either cost you a hand or you could take the black. I could see this version of Ned forgiving Pyp and Grenn for something that minuscule in exchange for companionship for Jon who at this point doesn't have many friends besides like Robb, Arya, and Sansa.

Next chapter, we will go back to Ned I believe. Then back to Jon and I think after that we will go to either Bran or Robb in Winterfell. We will see.

As always thanks for the reviews, favorites, follows etc...

Enjoy


	19. Ned V

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

"Robert, we are wasting precious time," Ned sighed. This was a conversation that he wasn't looking forward to having again, but he had no choice. This time he would try a different approach mostly because he was afraid what would happen if he weren't successful. In his previous life, the crown was in debt so when Pycelle suggested a faceless man, he was scoffed at. This time, they still were in debt, but not nearly as much as before, thanks to him, and Ned did not want to take that chance. Sometimes it was better to leave things alone,

"Jon Arryn used to tell us that he had no patience for wasted time, yet here we sit wasting time on horse lords half a world away while our mentor was poisoned in this very city."

"Do not try to charm me with the words of Jon Arryn," Robert responded back at him angrily, before pounding the table. "I know them well, I was there! It still does not overrule the fact that the dragon whore is pregnant! I warned you! I told you and you did not care! You will care today. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well."

"Did you not hear the words I said after I told you I did not care?" Ned responded evenly. "Did my next words mean so little to you?"

Roberts eyes narrowed, and Ned did not give him a chance to speak, "When we were young men leading a rebellion for your crown and we faced seemingly unbeatable odds, did my words mean so little to you then? I told you then, what I told you that day in the barrowlands! Should those fools cross the Narrow Sea, we will crush them together, just as we defeated their brother! I told you I would fight for you until the day you died! Do you remember?"

Ned took a deep breath, and continued coldly again before Robert could speak a word. "What happened to you in this god forsaken city? Is the man I knew, the man fearless in the face of defeat, the brave warrior who would fight for those who couldn't? Tell me Robert, did you fear Rhaegar?"

Robert snarled and pounded the table again before he stood, "I caved his chest in with my hammer!"

"So what do you think will happen should some Dothraki horse lord who is afraid of water crosses the sea? Let them cross. If they do, the lords and ladies of Essos will sing songs about how we rid the world of the Dothraki."

"You would suggest a war?" Pycelle said incredulously?

"I would actually," Ned responded calmly after Robert sit down "Can we think for once gentlemen? You, yourself Maester have studied histories at the Citadel, tell me how many times that the Dorthraki have gotten on a boat?"

"There are very few" Pycelle responded.

Ned nodded, "And tell me, if there are very few, why are we so certain that they would even make it cross the Narrow Sea if they boarded one? Those who have made it have come with other people. Whom do you trust more? A people who have a history of barely stepping foot on a boat, or the Royal fleet? The Dothraki would sink before they ever got to shore."

"Do we trust Stannis at this point to deliver on that victory should the time come?" Littlefinger asked, no doubt trying to sow seeds of doubt in Ned's words. Around the room, Pycelle started to nod, agreeing with him. Varys just stared at him blankly.

"Stannis Baratheon is many things," Ned began tiredly, "but above all he is a man of duty. When the Greyjoy's rebelled, he sank the Iron Fleet easily. The Dothraki are not the ironborn. Let us stop pretending as if they are."

"That all may be true," Pycelle tried again, "but wouldn't it be best to avoid all of that unnecessary conflict when we could kill them now?

Ned nearly growled. This had to stop, and he went to speak again before Robert spoke up, shocking him. "No, Ned is right. If they cross the sea we will crush them."

Ned smiled at his friend and nodded in agreement. He was beginning to think his little speech wouldn't work, but in the end Robert was a simple man. Give him a chance at winning a war or women and he would put great thought into the idea.

"I'm glad you agree with me brother," Ned said with a smile. It was time to cause some chaos of his own. "Do you remember what else you promised me? When we were in the crypts of Winterfell?"

It took a moment, but Robert's eyes narrowed and anger flashed across his face, "aye."

Ned smiled and turned to Varys, "Lord Varys, do you care to tell the room what you told me a couple of evenings ago?"

To the untrained eye, Varys was as calm and cool as he could possibly be, but Ned saw it, and he took great satisfaction in what he saw, the twitch. The mummer was nervous.

Lie and Ned would expose him. They both knew that the people in the room were more likely to believe him. He responded cooly, "I told you I suspected Lord Arryn was poisoned."

"That is the second person today who has spoken of poison," Lord Renly spoke, "yet I have not heard any proof"

Ned again found himself smiling. The game was fun when you knew all the moves. "The proof is in the symptoms Lord Renly. Maester Pycelle, tell us of Lord Arryn's condition right before he dies?"

"I told you," Pycelle stumbled. "He came to me the night before as healthy as he could be. The next morning he was doubled over in pain. Maester Colemon thought it was a chill on the stomach, but Lord Jon continued to weaken. I went to him myself but the gods did not grant me the power to save him."

"So he was completely healthy one day, the next he was in so much pain that it crippled him?"

"Yes," Pycelle started, and began to talk again but Ned interrupted him. Ned noticed he didn't mention the book but Ned didn't mind for now.

"Lord Vary's," Ned started. "You are well traveled, tell me does that poison sound familiar?"

Varys gasped and Ned almost laughed. The man was a convincing actor. "The tears of Lys.'

"Aye," Ned responded. "I had a run in with the tears of Lys once. Not everyone in the North liked that I let the free folk south of the wall, and someone tried to poison me with it. Luckily for me, I had tasters and a young boy drank the poison that was meant for me."

He paused a moment before turning to Pycelle and frowning, "The difference is that my own Maester Luwin was able to recognize what was happening and immediately started cleansing the boys body with potions and pepper juice. The boy had a rough couple of days, I will not lie, but eventually he recovered."

He glared cold and hard at Pycelle then, "Tell me Grand Maester, are you so old that you could realize the same as my own Maester Luwin and do the same?"

Pycelle began to stutter, but Ned cut him off again after quickly scanning the room. Robert was starting to grow red with rage, and Ned decided to throw the finishing blow, "but wait! Maester Colemon did try to treat Lord Arryn. He started to give Lord Arryn the same treatment Maester Luwin gave that boy, yet you stopped him! You sent him away!"

Robert banged his fist on the table and again rose to his feet, "Ser Barristan, arrest that man for the murder of Jon Arryn!"

Ned quickly stepped in, "arrest him brother yes, we must question him further. However I do not believe he acted alone, or that he was the person who gave Jon the poison. Remember, Jon was already sick when he went to the Maester for treatment! His only crime is not acting in a timely manner and within his abilities to save Jon. I told you from the very beginning that I would drain this cesspool of a city and this is only the beginning. I will continue to investigate, and when I find out who did this, we will have their head."

* * *

After he returned to the tower of the hand, he summoned Vayon Poole to his solar. The steward, as loyal as any man, came at once. "You sent for me, my lord hand?"

Ned got straight to the point, "the Manderly ship with the men I requested is it here yet?"

"Yes my lord," Vayon responded, "it just arrived this morning. The captain plans to depart in five days and return north."

"Tell him to delay," Ned commanded. "I fear that King's Landing has grown much too dangerous for my daughters and some of my household. You have ten days Vayon, not enough time I am sure, but you have ten days to prepare my daughters and all of the men who cannot fight to go home. That is all we can afford."

"At once, my lord," Vayon responded and bowed.

"Keep it as quiet as possible Vayon. Only tell Jory, and send him to me once you do."

"As you command, my lord."

When he had gone, Ned had sat and waited. The issue he had with making his move on Pycelle was that he was afraid of consequences of his actions. He didn't know how the world would turn with Pycelle in the black cells. He didn't know what would happen.

He was relieved when Tomard knocked to announce a visitor. "Lord Baelish to see you, m'lord."

Ned took a calming breath before he gave the command to allow Baelish in. He entered the room as he did before, with an air of confidence that would irritate Ned no matter how many times he lived.

"Quite a show you put on this morning," Littlefinger started. "Before you came here many members of this court wondered if the wolf had teeth. It seems as if we underestimated you."

"I used common sense Lord Baelish," Ned responded cooly. "It seems like that is lacking around here. I plan to restore it. Is their anything I can help you with?"

"I won't detain you long, I'm on my way to dine with Lady - "

"The point if you will," Ned interrupted impatiently.

Littlefinger sighed, "such impatience. Fine I'll get to it then. I have found the brothel that your man Jory has been searching for."

* * *

"The wolves are howling," Jamie Lannister said and quite literally they were. Lady and Nymeria had found him as they left the brothel. They were such smart animals, it was like they could sense the danger. Ned could see the rain running down his face. "Such a small pack, though."

Littlefinger walked his horse forward before pointing to the badge on Ned's chest. "What is the meaning of this? This is the Hand of the King."

While it was true he argued with Robert just as he did the last time about Deanery's, he didn't give up his badge this time. There was no point, not yet anyway.

"He was the Hand of the King," Jamie spoke as the line parted before him. "I wonder how they will remember you after today. I've already murdered a king, what is a Hand?"

Lady growled, and Nymeria barked viciously.

"Lord Baelish," Ned said calmly. "Go get the city watch please. The kingslayer knows what he is doing, there is no point in arguing with him."

"Quite true," Jamie smiled. "I'm looking for my brother. You remember him don't you, Lord Stark?"

"I do," Ned responded with a smile of his own by this time, Lord Baelish had already taken off and his horse's hooves echoed softly in the mud.

"It would seem he has met some trouble on the road. My lord father is quite upset. I find myself wondering if you know who might have wished my brother ill."

"Your brother was taken at my command, to answer for his crimes," Ned responded. Like before Ser Jamie ripped his long sword from its sheath and urged his stallion forward. Ned laughed, stopping him in his tracks.

"I do not understand why the people of King's Landing take me for a fool kingslayer," Ned spat. "Do I look like a fool to you?"

"Only a fool would..." Jamie began, but went quiet again as the sound of hooves approached them.

"You see kingslayer," Ned taunted him as Stark men approached the scene on horses of their own, swords drawn and ready for battle, "I knew when I gave the order to take your brother, that you would do something irrational so I went ahead and sent a raven to Lord Manderly and told him to send me some more men for my protection. Luckily for me, they just arrived this morning."

Jamie looked around and Ned could see him counting in his head.

"Do you really think I would walk around King's Landing without protection kingslayer? You are outnumbered a hundred to twenty and if I wanted to, you would be rotting in the black cells by the end of the day but today… today I feel generous. I will allow you to leave, no doubt you will run back to your father but when you do give him a message for me?"

Jamie knew he was defeated and simply nodded his head. Ned smiled, "Tell your father that house Stark sends our regard. Winter is coming."

* * *

A/N: So quite a lot happens this chapter and I hope it all makes sense. Let me explain my thoughts.

First, it was always quite odd to me that King Robert was so worried about the Dothraki in both the books and the show. As far as we knew at the time, (and we found this out later actually) that the only Dothraki who had been on a boat were those who were apart of the Brave Companions. Realistically, this means that not only is the likelihood of 40,000 of them getting on a boat very low, but the likelihood of them actually making it to Westeros is slim. Sure, with the right amount of gold they could hire sailors, but we are talking about 40,000 men. Common sense should say that even if it did happen, it would not happen any time soon, and that the Royal Fleet was superior.

At the time could Robert really trust Stannis? No, but in this story the North has a fleet as well which Ned controls. In the book and shows( and again we are speaking about at the time of this chapter) he still probably could arrive on the Lannister Fleet, as small as it was, or the Redwyne fleet, both which, imo, should be sufficient enough to sink the ships of hired sailors. In this story, Ned using this logic to convince Robert that killing the remaining Targaryens isn't necessary. I hope its realistic and makes sense to you guys.

The Pycelle arrest here is just a bit of common sense to me as well. The main character flaw here with Ned is that he wasn't suspicious enough when he went to King's Landing in the book or the show even though Jon Arryn just died there. In this he had the advantage of knowing, but sometimes that will bite him as we can see by the first paragraph of the story. I'm trying to keep this balanced as much as I can here, and the farther we get along, the more consequences Ned's changes will have.

The Jamie situation just wrote itself. First, let me point out how dumb it is for a man of Ned's stature to walk around a city like King's Landing with only three men. Again, your friend just died. You think that the Queen might have had something to do with it. Etc, etc... Ned wasn't nearly as paranoid as maybe he should have been. It's a character flaw, but without those stories would be boring. Again, I will begin showing the consequences of Ned's changes here soon.

Getting kind of long here, so I won't keep you any longer. As always, appreciate the reviews, follows and alerts. I never thought there would be so many!


	20. Jon IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

"Unfortunately," Ser Arthur said staring off in the distance, waiting for his signal. The stars lit up the nights sky clearly, and they could only thank the gods that they could see so clearly. "We have to wait for the first shot to be fired. They will light one of these fields up. When the men start retreating to the holdfast, they will try to set that on fire too, its wood. They will try to burn them out."

"Its dangerous, what we sent those men to do," Jon said. He never liked this part of Ser Arthur's plan.

Ser Arthur frowned and sighed, "aye, but sometimes you have to take risk to win battles Jon. Our greatest strength here today is that they do not know we are here. They think that town and holdfast is full of regular people."

"How are we so lucky that we haven't been spotted?" Jon asked.

"They do not expect resistance," Ser Arthur spoke again. "They did not scouting. They just came hoping to strike hard, fast, and retreat. It would have been successful if not for your father."

"Are men really that cruel," Jon asked. "Will they really attack a holdfast with people they know are innocent for revenge?"

"Remember what I told you outside the feast back in Winterfell?" Ser Arthur asked and Jon nodded. "The north really is different Jon, I want you to remember that. In Winterfell honor reigns supreme and justice is most important. These men are not of the North. They only know how to take what they want and don't really care how they achieve their goal."

"It doesn't make sense," Jon said and wanted to say more but Ser Arthur interrupted him.

"That is because you don't understand a man like Tywin Lannister. One of your biggest challenges as King will be learning how to understand the houses and families outside the north. Tywin Lannister once destroyed an entire house because they revolted against him. He killed every man, woman, and child who carried the Reyne family name because they dared commit a slight against his family. Lady Stark took his son. This reaction from him is tame and only meant to make it easier for him to go to war. Soon Twyin Lannister and the Kingslayer will be leading armies into the riverlands. Our goal here is to take one of his top weapons away from him."

"Surely Lady Stark knew this could happen?" Jon asked. "I know she thinks Tyrion had something to do with the attack on Bran but surely there could have been a better way?"

"I don't understand it either Jon," Ser Arthur said but then he paused, gathering his thoughts. "It was actually Lord Stark who gave the order to take Tyrion. You know him and his dreams. He had a dream that Bran would be attacked, and put Robb in the perfect position to stop it. He had a dream that Tyrion Lannister had something to do with it, so he gave Lady Stark instructions to capture him. He had a dream that Tywin Lannister would respond and he sent me to deal with it."

"It is a strange thing, those dreams he has. It is almost like he has experienced this all before," Jon said.

Ser Arthur laughed. "I doubt he has. These dreams Lord Stark has aren't that uncommon. They say that your ancestor Daenys dreamed of the doom before it happened and convinced her family to move to Dragonstone. In the north, house Reed speaks of the dreams of the northern lords going all the way back to your ancestor Brandon who built the Wall."

Jon sighed. "I thought magic didn't exist anymore."

Ser Arthur laughed again, and then spoke real quiet so that only Jon could hear him. "You have told me that you dream from your direwolve's perspective, you told me that you feel as if your dragon egg calls out to you and that it feels warm to your touch while it is only cold to mine. Do you really think that all magic is dead?"

Jon laughed too. It was an insane thought, but he couldn't help it. His mind tried to rationalize how his father knew the things he knew, and none of it made sense but Arthur was right. If he could see out of Ghost's eyes, then maybe it was plausible that his father could see the future.

"Look," Ser Arthur suddenly said as a fire arrow lit up against the darkness of night. A volley went up in the air, and suddenly the fields were on fire and Jon could see men running away toward the hold fast.

"Ready!" Arthur called out. It felt like it lasted an eternity but in reality it was just a few short moments. The mountains men, if their scouts were right there were three hundred of them, had started to advance on the holdfast once people started running for it.

"He doesn't suspect a thing," Jon muttered. "He doesn't even realize how empty the village is."

"Wait," Arthur commanded loudly again. Jon couldn't see from this distance, but knew that soon the Mountain would fall for the trap.

When the Mountain and his were close enough, the trap was sprang. Suddenly he could hear a horn blowing in the distance and saw a hundred arrows fly from the top of the holdfast as the Mountain and his men approached.

"Tonight we conquer a Mountain," Ser Arthur shouted, "CHARGE!"

The sound of hooves pounding the ground filled his ears and lasted what felt like an eternity. Ghost was faster than them all, and he had quickly reached his first victim and pounced on him from behind, his teeth ripping out the back on the mans head. He never had a chance.

When Jon's horse got close enough, he swung his sword in an arch landing a killing blow on one man, before he quickly moved on tot he next. Ghost was quickly moving from man to man, ending them quickly and quietly. Jon could almost taste the blood on his lips as if he were the one biting and ripping flesh with his teeth.

Once the Mountain and his men had realized what was happening, they tried to turn and fight them but it was too late. By then, the gate to the hold fast had opened and the infantry stormed out, charging at them.

It was a rout. Left and right the Mountain's men met their end and before long men threw down their swords screaming for mercy. After a while only the Mountain and his most trusted men were left standing, stuck in the middle of a circle that was closing in on them.

"Gregor Clegane," Ser Athur called out, "you will yield or die. Tonight you have committed a great crime against the riverlords and their people. Were it not for my scouts, you would have burned and pillaged this village, killing hundreds of innocent people. I will take you back to Riverrun, where you will face Lord Tully to answer for your crimes."

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Gregor called out. He spat on the floor to his right and laughed loudly. Jon had to admit, in that moment he admired his bravery. Even in the face of certain defeat he was confident that he would win. "I see you are too much of a coward to face me one on one. You had to attack me from behind to win this battle."

He was trying to goad Ser Arthur into single combat, but Jon was certain that he would not entertain the idea. Ser Arthur shook his head and sighed. "Seize them!"

For a moment, no one moved and Gregor threw back his head and let out a great laugh. His laugh, mocking their courage, caused some men to go forward, only for Ser Gregor to lift he sword above he his head and swing wildly.

Jon didn't even see Ser Arthur move, but before he knew it, his mentor was in front of the large man and had caught his blow between Dawn and his other steel sword. Time seemed to slow then, as the look of amazement took over the faces of many of the men present. This wasn't supposed to happen. The mountain was too big, too strong.

Ser Arthur then quickly moved and disarmed Gregor with one quick strike before bringing the man to his knees by maneuvering around him and slicing at the back of them. He pointed Dawn at the back his head and commanded coldly, "yield."

Ser Arthur would have died right there if Jon didn't react. A sandy haired younger man, loyal to the mountain moved to stab him in the back but Jon was quicker. He paired the blow aimed at his mentor's heart and swung his sword, taking the man's head clean off his shoulder.

His other men went to attack then, loyal to end, but Ghost had jumped into the action then and had already taken one out before leaping at another. The other three men had the wisdom to quit then. They threw down their sword and lifted their hands.

"Bring me the chains," Ser Arthur commanded.

* * *

He couldn't sleep that night. He knew it would be hard and his body felt tired, but his mind would not allow him to rest. So he called ghost and walked to the top of the battlement where an unlucky few men had drawn the first watch. He found a quiet spot facing the river to the north and turned to watch the sun rise.

He heard the footsteps behind him, and once again a low warning from Ghost had let him know exactly who it was.

"Can't sleep?" Ser Arthur asked tiredly and Jon just nodded, never turning to look at him. After a moment of silence passed Ser Arthur spoke again, "what is on your mind?"

Jon again shook his head, not knowing what to say or how to say it. He opened his mouth many times, but closed it again just as much.

"You killed your first man today," Ser Arthur tried, but Jon again shook his head. That hadn't bothered him. He knew what would have happened had they not been there. Those men were going to slaughter innocent people, they deserved justice. His mind drifted to those who deserved it, but never had gotten it until now.

Ser Arthur sighed. "Speak freely Jon, I'm afraid I do not speak the language of brood as I often told your father."

Jon opened his mouth again, and again closed it but this time, the question flowed freely and he felt like he had lost control.

"Do you think Rhaenys would have been more like Arya or Sansa?"

He could hear the smile in Ser Arthur's voice.

"Definitely Arya," Ser Arthur said. "Do you remember when Lord Stark first brought the wolves to Winterfell? How suddenly it was like there were two of your sister running around the castle causing trouble?"

Jon nodded, his eyes uncontrollable as they begin to water.

"Rhaenys was just like that execpt instead of a wolf pup, she had a great black kitten she called Balerion. As soon as she could walk her and that cat ruled over the Red Keep as if she was the Queen."

Jon laughed through the tears, "Balerion? After the dragon?"

"The same one," Ser Arthur responded happily from behind him.

Jon let a moment pass them again, before he asked, "and Aegon?"

"I only saw Aegon once," Ser Arthur said sadly. "Rhaegar was presenting him to King Aerys. We left for Harrenhal soon after and the rest is history. Your grandmother, Queen Rhaella, said he looked just like Rhaegar as a babe so I do imagine that he would have been the same as him, as you are."

Jon sighed. It wasn't the first time Ser Arthur told him that he and Rhaegar were similar. As much as a part of him wanted to deny it, from the stories that Ser Arthur told on the road, Jon often found himself noticing how similar they were. He chucked to himself. At least he didn't play the harp. Robb and Theon would have teased him tirelessly if he played the harp.

"Have I done right?" Jon asked. "Have I gotten the justice that they deserve?"

"Not yet," Ser Arthur said. "I can feel the tides shifting. I feel that you will be crowned King soon. You northerners are so different, but I can't help but feel that when it comes to justice, you have it right. He who passes judgment must swing the sword."

"I will swing it," Jon answered angrily.

"Then you are not ready," Ser Arthur said sternly. "Do not confuse revenge with justice. They are separate. Justice cannot be taken so lightly."

Jon sighed, but he nodded anyway. Above him the sun had finally decided to stop hiding. It was gorgeous in the distance, but the cold wind still blew. Winter would come for Gregor Clegane. He just had to wait.

* * *

A/N: Another one! Again, I hope you guys like this and it doesn't make sense.

In the books, we know only of Gregor's attacks from the views of the small folk those attacks they effected. It felt like they attacked quickly, moving from small holdfast to small hold fast until they had completed what they came to do and left. The villagers in the book don't know exactly how many men were with Clegane, but there I believe they thought it was anywhere between 50-300. I went with the later.

Nothing really to special about this small battle, and I wouldn't even call it a battle. I hope my reasoning for it being a rout makes sense. Again to me, in the books, Gregor's objective was to strike as fast and hard as he could. He didn't expect opposition. Obviously here that is different. Knowing that, I had Ser Arthur plan for it. Empty the holdfast of all of the innocent people and when Gregor advanced to set it on fire, let off a volley of arrows, and then rout them from behind.

To me, Clegane doesn't seem like the type to yield. We know from the books that Ser Arthur is often called the greatest swordsman of all time, so I added the spectacle of him catching Gregor's blow with his two words, and then bringing him to his knees. The almost being stabbed in the back part is a nod to what happened in the show.

In the end, we leave Jon thinking about the brother and sister that he never had which I think that cannon Jon would have thought about a lot if he had known.

Again, I don't want to keep you too long. Thanks for all the support. Let me know if you enjoyed. Next chapter probably won't be out until after Christmas, and in that chapter I will try to respond to some of your reviews.

Until then!


	21. Ned VI

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Eddard

Eddard Stark opened his eyes and groaned. He had been tired from all the riding he had done, and decided to take a nap before he faced the King and his Queen. The moonlight that streamed through the tall windows let him know he had failed is his goal to sleep until morning. Somethings would never change.

"The king left orders," Vayon Poole told him after he handed him a cup of water. "He would speak with you, my lord."

Ned sighed. "Tell him I'm too tired to come to him. If he wished to speak with me, I should be pleased to receive him here. Summon Jory for me before you go."

Jory stepped into the bedchamber a few moments after the steward had taken his leave. "My lord."

"I have been gone for six days," Ned said. "How are my daughters?"

"Safe and sound," Jory responded and Ned sighed. It was a risk chasing Jamie Lannister and leaving them here, but in the last life when he was injured and out of it, nothing had happened to his girls. He was confident that with more Stark men here to guard them, that nothing would happen this time either.

"Sansa has prayed every day for your safe return. Theon Greyjoy had stuck by her side and made sure nothing bad would happen to her."

"And Arya?" Ned asked.

Jory smiled. "Arya is Arya my lord."

Ned nodded. "Soon I will have my daughters and most of my household on a boat headed to White Harbor. It should be ready soon."

Jory grimaced. "It looks like the ship will not be ready for another fortnight at least my lord. An accident occurred, causing damage to the ship and the captain said he would need that time to make the repairs."

Ned cursed silently. It was no accident. Someone must have grown suspicious that a Manderly ship was sticking around the harbor. They must have guessed that he was trying to get my girls out of King's Landing. "Send men to guard that ship night and day. I will have no more accidents."

Jory nodded, the frown still attached firmly to his face, "There is something else you should know my lord."

"What is it?" Ned asked him, but Vayon Poole had returned before he could speak. His steward bowed low. "His grace is without, my lord, and the queen with him."

Ned rose from the bed, and nodded. "Send them in, and leave us. What we say should not go beyond these walls."

"Your Grace," Ned said as Robert entered the room. He knelt before him and waited for Robert to tell him to rise.

"Get up Ned," Robery said gruffly and when Ned rose he spoke, "where the hell have you been?"

"As I am sure you have heard," Ned began. "Ser Jamie Lannister attempted to ambush me in the streets of King's Landing. Had the members of my household guard not outnumbered his, he would have attacked me. I did not want to cause more of a scene in your city than we already had, so I waited for him to leave before I took some members of my guard and gave chase."

"What gives you the right," the queen snarled. The truth was that he never really chased Jamie. He just gave the appearance that he did. He wanted to follow his original life now, perhaps more than ever, as closely as possible. He had six days and seven nights to kill.

"Quiet, woman," Robert snapped. He poured Ned a cup of wine. "I needed you Ned."

"For what? Pycelle's trial is not for another two days. When I could not track Jamie, I made sure to return so I could judge his trial."

"Pycelle is dead," Robert responded coolly. "The only healers we have here are his apprentices. They say it looked natural. They say the stress of being locked up in the black cells caused his heart to give out. Good riddance, he could have saved Jon and he didn't."

"Surely you do no think it was a simple heart attack," Ned asked. "Whoever did this knew that Pycelle might have had answers and did not want him to talk."

"That old mans death is not of great importance," Queen Cersei spat. Ned was confident who killed the maester. "The citadel has already elected another Grand Maester and he will arrive within a moon turn. What is more important is what your wife had done."

"My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did she did at my command."

"I am not pleased, Ned," Robert grumbled.

"By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?" Cersei demanded. "Who do you think you are?"

"The Hand of the King," Ned responded politely. "Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king's peace, and enforce the king's justice. Besides, when we were in Winterfell, you seemed not to care for your brother much, why now?"

"How dare you," Cersei began.

"Silence!" the king roared. "You have asked him your question, and now he has answered it." Cersei subsided, though her fury was still etched harshly in her features, and Robert turned back to Ned. "Keep the king's peace, you say? Is this how you keep my peace, Ned? There was almost a drunken fight in my streets Ned, and a key prisoner has died on your absence."

"You blame me for the failures of the other members of the council?" Ned asked. "Surely someone other than me should have been smart enough to order more men to protect him? I did not think I was needed for such a trivial task."

"Which is exactly why I needed you!" Robert roared. "You leave for six days and this is what happens! I don't give a damn about the imp. I don't give a damn about the Kingslayer! Hell you even convinced me to not give a damn about that dragon whore across the sea! You were supposed to be focused on finding out what happened to Lord Arryn, yet you let this stupid quarrel with the Kingslayer distract you from that path, and in the chaos, Pycelle is dead. Another man in my castle poisoned is what you would have me believe. How does that make me look?"

By the time he was done, the king was red faced and panting and suddenly, Ned was starting to second guess himself. Maybe trying to stick to this timeline wasn't the right move here. Maybe Robert was right. He didn't think they would kill poison and kill Pycelle so soon after they had done the same to Jon Arryn. He had underestimated them for the last time.

Ned sighed, and had the grace to look ashamed. He would not argue with Robert anymore that night, so he just nodded grimly at him. Robert sighed as well. "Did you at least catch him?"

"No," Ned responded, not that he really tried. "He managed to evade me. He probably has arrived in Casterly Rock by now."

"Good," Cersei told the king. "My brother was not the cause of this quarrel. Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His has already admitted his men outnumbered Jamie and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion the kingsroad."

Ned scoffed. "I was neither drunk, nor was I enjoying some whorehouse. I went there to have a look at your daughter. She looks exactly like that girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale."

Again he watched Cersei as he spoke. Again she was a mask. In his previous life, he had brought up Baelish and asked the King to speak with him to vouch for him. This time he knew better, just as he should of known the last. That had been one of the many times Lord Baelish had blatantly told him he would betray him. He wasn't focused during his last life. He was more focused now.

Robert glanced at Cersei, "this is no fit subject for the queen's ears."

"Her grace will not like anything I have to say on this night," Ned replied. "I was hoping you would give me leave to bring the Kingslayer back to justice after the trial. Now that there would be no trial, I hope to leave tomorrow."

Ned knew Robert would deny him, and pretended to act upset when he did.

"No," he said. "I want no more of this."

"Is that your notion of justice?" Ned asked coldly. He was starting to become such a great actor. It wasn't as pleasing as he thought it might be. "He attacked your hand in the streets of your city. He must face the consequences."

The queen glared at her husband. "If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you-"

"Do you take me for Aerys?" Robert interrupted. Ned frowned. Aerys was mad. Robert was lazy and incompetent. He wasn't really sure, at that moment, which was worst.

"I took you for a king," Cersei began but Ned began ignore her. He knew what the Queen would say, so he had no need to hear it again. This time he waited for Robert to strike.

"What a jape the gods have made us two," she said. "By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail."

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow aimed at her head. Ned caught it before it connected, and Robert looked at him with narrowed eyes. Ned shook his head and called for a guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room and Ned spoke. "The queen is tired. See her to bed please."

Cersei stared at him with cold calculating eyes but quickly left the room without another word. Robert yanked his hand away and reached for the flagon to refill his cup. He was quiet for a moment, brooding, his face in his cup. He finally downed it all before he filled it again.

"I suppose I should be thanking you," he said as he sat down. "That bruise would have been nasty."

"Aye," Ned responded. "What happened to you? The Robert I knew would never-"

"I know!" Robert cut him off. "Gods I know. You see what she does to me, Ned. My loving wife, the mother of my children. I should not have attempted to hit her. That was not… Jon Arryn never taught us to… that was not kingly."

By then he had downed another cup and filled it again. "I was always so strong … only you could stand before me. How do you fight someone if you can't hit them?"

"You should never had to fight her," Ned responded. "She is your wife."

"Gods!" Robert responded. "It is all so simple for you! I am not you Ned! I never wanted this. I wanted Lyanna."

It was sad really. Lyanna never wanted him but Ned was not cruel enough to tell him. Robert would die thinking what he thought. If there was some kind of afterlife, only then would he know the truth. Ned sighed. It was time to say goodbye.

It was strange, this time, knowing that this was the last conversation he would ever have with Robert. There was so much that he wanted to say, that he could say, that he wouldn't. If the gods had been kind enough to send him back earlier, perhaps he would have attempted to save Robert too but it was too late. Robert was not fit to be King, so he must die. He had accepted that decision a long time ago… or so he thought.

"You Grace," Ned said, in the end of it all finding his resolve crumbling. They had grown apart, but the man was still his friend. In the face of it all, he could not allow his friend to walk into his death unknowingly. "We must talk."

Robert looked up at him, and downed another cup. "I am sick of talking. On the marrow I'm going to the kingswood to hunt. Whatever you have to say can wait until I return."

Ned sighed. He had been ready to warn him, to tell him to be careful but Robert was still the same. His words were still the same. His actions were still the same. He couldn't save him. At this point, he wasn't sure Robert wanted to be saved.

Robert stood up, grasping the bedpost to steady himself. "Promise to keep the kingdom safe while I am gone?"

"I promise," Ned responded, the echo of his sisters voice pounding in his head like a drum.

* * *

A/N: I think I said that this chapter would be Bran? I lied. Sorry about that. In the books GRR writes chapters out of order. I decided, mostly so I could keep up with things, to try to tell things in order as much as possible which means the next chapter will be a Sansa, followed by the first chapter from Dany's POV. Then we would get Catelyn, and back to Ned. If all goes well, I'll post the Sansa chapter sometime in the morning.

Here, we see Ned doing his best to follow the path of his original timeline. I know some of you have asked me time and time again; Why? For what reason? What is the purpose? Because he knows what will happen, and thinks its the easiest way to get Jon on the throne to lead against the Long Night. Its that simple. I think some of you are overthinking it a bit.

Now, does that mean this story will follow cannon until the end? No. As I said before, Ned's changes will start to take effect really soon starting with the next chapter. His changes might even put his life in danger... who knows?

Anyway, as always I appreciate all your comments, follows and favorites. I never imagined I would get this response.

See you tomorrow!


	22. Sansa II

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Sansa

When her father held court in Winterfell, he was almost so calm and comfortable as he listened to the problems of the people of the North. He would listen to them carefully before giving his wise words of wisdom.

"The North, much like you all are my family," her father told them. "The strength of a family comes from loyalty and respect. I give it to them, so they give it to me."

King's Landing was no Winterfell, and so her father was neither calm nor comfortable as he sat on the throne, his body shifting and he stared blankly at the nights in front of him. She wondered why they were there. By the sigils on their breast, she knew the three knights were from her mother's homeland, yet the expressions on their faces gave nothing away.

In Winterfell she sat close by as her father made his decisions. It was a show of strength and family.

"Let the North know that all of us care about their issues, no matter how small they might be," her father had said.

In King's Landing she sat above him in a balcony with the other highborn lords and ladies. Loyalty as Lady lying at her feet despite the looks of fear upon the faces of the people who had not grown used to her. Sansa wasn't sure that if the roles were reversed and the people scrutinized her like they did her wolf, that she would be able to handle it. Luckily, Theon and members of her father's household guard were always nearby so none of them were brave enough to speak.

"Tell us what happened," Lord Varys spoke so softly that Sansa could barely hear him speak. The only councilors that had joined her father were Lord Varys and Lord Baelish, almost all of the rest of the court had gone hunting with the king.

"The bandits attempted an attack," a knight spoke. The coat of arms on his chest was one of a black plowman on a brown field. He was a knight from House Darry of Dary. She smiled to her self, she could almost hear the praise of Maester Luwin. "But those were not just any bandits, they were Lannister Bandits."

A soft murmur rand through the throne room at his words. Sansa was confident that it would have been much louder had more of the court were present. It was not a light acquisition to make, yet the man made it confidently. He was sure.

Lord Baelish echoed her thoughts, "How can you be sure?"

Another man spoke, his sigil was quartered, a black dragon on a white field and two golden eyes in a golden ring on a black field. He was from house Vance of Wayfarer's rest, though Sansa did not know his name. He smiled at Lord Baelish politely, there was glory in his eyes. "Ser Arthur and Lord Stark's bastard Jon Snow figured out what was happening and led an attack on them. They captured a lot of them. I will tell my grandchildren the story of the day I watched Ser Arthur Dayne bring the Mountain to his knees while the White Wolf cut through his most loyal of men."

Sansa frowned. What had Jon and Ser Arthur been doing in the Riverlands. Had her father sent them there, anticipating this would happen? How could he have known? Beside her, Theon let out a soft chuckled and was grinning from ear to ear. He was proud. Sansa was just confused.

"Rise," her father commanded. "All of you, up. Tell me in detail what happened."

The third knight was the first to rise and also the first to speak. His sigil was of a pink dancing maiden in a swirl of white silk on a blue field. He represented house Piper, and if his Armour were anything to go by she would have guessed he was Ser Marq Piper, heir to Pinkmaiden.

"The Moutain and his men attempted to burn Wendish town down. They started om the fields, and when people ran to seek shelter in the holdfast, they tried to burn it too. I'm not sure what you teach bastards in the north Lord Stark, but Jon Snow read the Mountain like a book. Ser Arthur allowed him to tell us of his plan, and it worked."

That was interesting. While Sansa did not doubt Jon's ability to come up with a plan, they were taught by Ser Arthur, the greatest swordsman to ever live, and her father who is credited as a leader of Robert's Rebellion, she did understand the effect that allowing Jon to deliver the plan.

Her father had taught them to question everything. The question here was easy, why did Ser Arthur want Jon to get the credit as the mind who brought down the Mountain?

"The White Wolf told Ser Arthur to evacuate the town. He sent them all to Sherrer while he set up his trap. He filled the holdfast with archers and the people who Ser Gregor thought was running from him were actually infantry soldiers whose sole job was to make the Mountain think he had an advantage. Once the gates were closed and the Mountain approached the holdfast to burn it down, the archers revealed themselves and started shooting," the man from House Darry jumped in.

"Ser Arthur and the White Wolf lead a charge on their flank. They never knew what hit them. It was easy. Most of his men gave themselves up and those who didn't were routed. I saw Ser Arthur slap the chains on the Mountain myself. He was the most massive man I've ever seen. Ser Arthur took them back to Rivverrun to face judgement for raiding Lord Tully's lands. When we arrived, Ser Arthur and Lord Edmure agreed that we should come here and let the king know."

Sansa found that hard to believe. She knew that Ser Arthur did not care what the King knew. He wanted her father to know, and could not come himself. His mission was definitely accomplished.

"Why not bring him to King's Landing to face the king's justice?" Lord Varys asked, again his voice low and full of questions.

"I doubt these men know the intentions of Ser Arthur," her father responded. His face was a cool mask and gave away nothing.

"Perhaps you do?" Lord Baelish questioned her father. "After all Ser Arthur has been in your service for all these years. What was Ser Arthur even doing in the Riverlands with your bastard?"

"I don't know why Ser Arthur did not bring the Mountain here," her father spoke again, his face betraying nothing, "but he was in the Trident on my command. I needed him to deliver a message to my good-brother. Maybe Ser Edmund heard about the Mountain and asked Ser Arthur to handle it for him. It is common knowledge that Ser Arthur does not care for the Mountain."

She frowned again. While she did agree with her father, Ser Arthur was not shy about his hatred of the Mountain, the part about her uncle Edmure was nonsense. From the stories her mother had told them about him, she doubted her uncle would have sent someone else to capture the Mountain had he known. He would have wanted that glory for himself, and now that glory fell to Ser Arthur and Jon. Her father was deflecting.

"Perhaps we should instead consider it luck that Ser Arthur and Jon Snow were there," Lord Varys spoke again. "It seems as if they managed to save a lot of innocent lives."

"Aye," her father responded, and seemed content to leave it there but Ser Piper spoke again.

"Lord Edmure believes that Tywin Lannister sent the Mountain. He sent men to every holdfast within a day's ride of the border. Ser Arthur argued against it, but Edmure would not listen."

Sansa watched closely and her father sighed. He definitely didn't agree with her uncle's actions, but why? Wasn't a Lord's job to protect his people and land?

"If your fields and holdfast are safe from harm," Lord Baelish spoke, "what then do you want from the crown? You have captured the men responsible for the crimes. Right now you are wasting our time."

"The lords of the Trident keep the king's peace," the knight responded. "The Lannisters have broken it. We ask leave to answer them, steel for steel. Lord Edmure agrees. Ser Arthur may have captured the Mountain, but the intent is still clear. We interrogated those men. Tywin Lannister sent them for blood. We must strike back."

"No," her father responded. It was simple, yet final. "Men who fear death will tell you anything you want to hear. I will send a missive to Lord Lannister asking him to explain himself. Should Lord Tywin give his word that the Mountain acted on his own, then we will send for Gregor Clegane to be transported to the capital to face justice for his crimes on his own. Inform Lord Tully that nothing is to happen to the Mountain until I say so."

Sansa, for the third time, found her self frowning. Her father never spoke good things about the Lannisters. He always said that they were only good for their gold, and that they would never fully trust them yet he was giving Twyin Lannister a perfect out. She saw her father search the faces in the crowd.

"Lord Beric, Thoros of Myr, Ser Gladden, Lord Lothar," he called out. "Each of you is to assemble twenty men to bring my word to Riverrun with these knights. Report directly to Ser Arthur and Lord Edmure what I have spoken today. Interrogate those men yourselves on behalf of the king. Should they speak the same story that they have told the river lords, then Lord Tywin may have more to answer for. Twenty of my men will go with you. Take the King's road to the Crossroads, and then ride to Rivverun from there. Ride at first light."

* * *

Her father called for her and Arya the next morning after the broke their fast. She had taken the time to politely explain to her sister what was going on, and was pleasantly surprised that Arya had some of the same questions she had.

They walked in silence together to their father's solar, Lady and Nymeria flanking them as Theon followed close behind. He walked in the room behind them and spoke to their father first.

"Your daughters my lord," Theon said.

"Theon, good I'm glad your here. Stay," her father spoke before Theon could excuse himself. For a moment her father didn't speak or do anything but look at them with a smile etched upon his face.

"I'm sending you both back to Winterfell," he finally spoke. She hadn't really expected that, and had to admit that she was stunned.

"You can't," Arya said. Sansa understood. At Winterfell her father let her sister practice with her sword, but she never had as much freedom as she had here in the capital. She was spending nearly all day with her dancing teacher. She would not be able to do the same in Winterfell.

"Why?" Sansa asked instead. She thought it was the more important question.

Her father gave her a proud smile and began to speak. "It is no longer safe in the capital. Jamie Lannister attempted to attack me in the streets, and what does Robert do? He goes hunting. I will not have either of you in danger any longer."

Arya was chewing her lip. "Can we take Syrio back with us?"

Sansa shook her head at her sisters question but smiled all the same. "If he agrees," her father said. "I want you both out of here as soon as the Manderly ship is repaired. I stress that we must keep this quiet."

"What about you father?" Sansa asked.

"The lone wolf dies," Arya added.

Their father laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day where my own children would use my own words against me. I won't be alone. I'll have my men and Theon will be here with me. The pack will survive."

Theon smiled proudly, but Sansa wasn't sure how she felt about him being left here. She would much rather him come home with her. She opened her mouth to voice her opinion, but thought better of it.

"It won't be so bad," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again. Rickon too."

Their father sighed. "You will be with Rickon for sure but I'm not sure about Robb and even Bran has his own path to follow. It is part of the reason I am sending you home, especially you Sansa. I need you to be the Starks in Winterfell."

Sansa was honored, of course, but she still had so many questions. Why?

* * *

A/N: Good Afternoon! I know I said morning, but I slept a couple of hours more than I thought haha. Here is another chapter from Sansa, and more ways in which we see that Ned has changed his daughter. She has been trained to listen and think for herself here, to question everything, which I like for this story.

I keep getting reviews asking about the thousands of people Ned is going to let die by allowing the same events to happen, and I find myself quite perplexed. What people are we talking about? He saved those people in the Riverlands. Are we still going to war? Obviously. War, I think, is inevitable. Ned's long term goal is to survive the Long Night. We have seen in this story, Robert not take him seriously. He knows that Joffrey will not take him seriously, so his best choices are either Stannis or Jon (based on what he knows of the future). I think it is very obvious that Ned Stark would not choose Stannis if he knew the future.

Was Jon perfect? No, but this Jon isn't that Jon. We really haven't gotten the chance to show that yet, but we will here coming soon. This Jon will not make the same mistakes as cannon Jon, and hopefully some members of his pack will still be around to keep him level.

Anyways. Dany next. How soon? I'm not sure. It honestly could be later today because I'm bored at the moment on my day off. It will be posted by Sunday though.

Until then!

Edit: I said Dany next. I lied. I looked over my plans for this story after posting this, and realized that Dany doesn't add anything yet as nothing has changed with Dany yet. Going over the story I have planned. We actually not see Dany for a while. I do apologize and hope I do not disappoint anyone. For those who don't see this, I will post it again next chapter. Which will be Catelyn.


	23. Catelyn III

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

As stated in the edit of my last chapter, I fibbed about this being a Dany. I went through my plans again today and realized that while what was going on with Dany was interesting, nothing Ned is doing here effects her yet. Important to note, that in this story, Dany never went Mad Queen. Humanity fell to the Night King.

* * *

Catelyn

The eastern sky was gold as the sun rose over the Vale of Arryn. Catelyn Stark had been wondering to herself how she got here and what the purpose of it all was. If her husband knew that taking Tryion Lannister was the right thing to do, surely he knew that this would be the result. Her homeland was on the brink of war, surely this is not what her husband wanted.

He couldn't have known that she would be attacked in the mountains of the Vale, that Lysa would be this hell bent on framing Tyrion Lannister for her husbands murder. If there was one thing she was certain of now more than anything, it was that Tyrion was innocent. It didn't make any sense for him to send someone to kill Bran knowing he had to travel from the Wall with as little men as he had. Even his story about never betting against his brother checked out.

And with how crazy Lysa was acting, she was starting to think that maybe Ned had been right to be suspicious of her back in Winterfell. She was ready to condemn a man with little to no proof. It was almost as if her sister was looking for someone to blame.

She sighed heavily. "Tell me the rest of it," she said.

"The Kingslayer is massing a host at Casterly Rock," Ser Rodrik Cassel answered. "Your brother writes that he has sent riders to the Rock, demanding that Lord Tywin proclaim his intent, but has no answer. Edmure has commanded Lord Piper and Lord Vance to guard the Golden Tooth. He vows that he will yield no foot of Tully Land without taking the blood of the Lannister men who try to take it. He also writes that Ser Arthur and Jon Snow are with him. He says that Jon made a plan and has captured the Mountain and that he currently sits in the dungeons."

That last bit made her pause. Why where Ser Arthur and Jon Snow in the Trident? Had Ned sent them there because he knew the Mountain would try to attack? Why didn't he say anything? Her husband was starting to frustrate her as much as her sister had been.

"Edmure has sent riders and made vows," she said, "but where is my lord father?"

"The message did not mention your father at all my lady. The only other thing on there is that Ser Arthur has advised him not to defend the Golden Pass as he has. Ser Arthur believes that Edmure is playing into Tywin Lannister's hand."

Catelyn shook her head. "He would have been wise to listen to Ser Arthur."

"Aye," Ser Rodrik responded. He didn't talk for a moment, and she appreciated the brief moment of silence before he talked again. "Your lady sister wanted to talk to you after the combat."

Catelyn scoffed. "The combat is a joke. The dwarf has tricked her, yet she is too blind to see it. Whatever happens this morning, Ser Rodrik, it is time we took our leave. My place is at Winterfell with my sons. Was there anything else?"

"Nothing, my lady."

The old knight waited outside her door as Catelyn summoned the servants Lysa had given her. She was hoping that she could speak toher sister before the duel, but had little hopes that her sister would listen to her at all. Her sister was definitely not the same girl she grew up with. She almost felt bad for her. What had gone so horribly wrong while she was in King's Landing to make her like this?

Catelyn thought that if her husband was poisoned and her son was as sickly as Robin, she might have went crazy a long time ago as well but then again, she was hiding a king. A king who had captured the man who was responsible for his siblings death. Suddenly everything clicked for her.

Ned must have had a dream that if she took Tyrion, Tywin would respond by sending the Mountain, so he sent Ser Arthur and Jon to capture him. He trusted that Ser Arthur would be able to handle it and would know to give Jon the credit. It instantly gave Jon support of Dorne should he reveal himself with the proof they had. A brother capturing the man who was responsible for killing the siblings he never had was a song that would be song across the land…. But why hadn't Ned told her the second part of the plan. Why did he leave Ser Arthur and Jon's part out?

She felt like she had a books worth of questions to ask her husband when she saw him again. She didn't like the fact that he was obviously keeping things from her, especially when she saw the merrits of his plan, and would have agreed with them had she been told. She sighed and opened the door leading to the tower stairs.

"Lannister is my prisoner," she told Ser Rodrik. "I think it is passed time we reminded my sister."

At the doors to Lysa's apartments, they met her uncle storming out. "Going to join the fool and her festival?" Ser Brynden snapped.

"I hoped to convince her not to go through with the combat," Catelyn responded grimly and her uncle laughed.

"Good luck with that."

"There was a bird from Riverrun," Catelyn began, "a letter from Edmure..."

"I know," Ser Brynden responded. "Maester Colemon has informed me. I asked for leave to take a thousand man to Riverrun with all haste. Do you know what she told me? My brother has the council of Ser Arthur Dayne uncle. Riverrun seems just fine, while my son seems to be in more danger everyday. Your place is here." he was mocking her. "Well, I told her that she could bloody find herself a new Knight of the Gate. Edmure doesn't seem to have the sense to listen to Ser Arthur. Maybe he will listen to me, a Tully. I shall leave for Rivverun by the time the sun sets."

"Alone?" Catelyn asked. The high road is dangerous. I found that out on the way here. You could never make it alone. Ser Rodrik and I are returning to Winterfell. Should Riverrun Tywin cross the Golden Tooth, I will give you more than a thousand men to fight them. Winter will come for house Lanister. This I promise you."

Brandon smiled at her and accepted her offer. He would wait for her below. Catelyn exchanged a tired look with Ser Rodrik. They went through the doors and she braced herself for what would come. When Lysa saw her, she pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her cheek. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"

"Each morning I have had the pleasure to wake here has been lovely," Catelyn smiled at her. She would try to be kind to her sister. To make her see reason. "However, we must talk."

"After the combat," Lysa responded, and tried to turn away from her. No doubt to run and hide.

"Now," Catelyn spoke firmly. The men around them began to stare. "That sell sword that Tyrion Lannister has fighting for him has no chance to beat Ser Vardis. What do we gain from Tyrion Lannister's death? Do you think that Tywin will care that we gave his son a trial before we pushed him through the moon doors? He marches on our homeland now, what do you think will happen when he receives word that we have killed his son?"

"He'd never make it past the bloody gate," Ser Lyn Corbray suggested. Catelyn ignored him.

"I remind you, Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner."

"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!" Her voice rose. "He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my poor sweet boy fatherless! Now he will pay!"

Catelyn watched her sister storm off and couldn't help but wonder again what had happened to her. She had changed so much.

"Do you think he did?" Ser Rodrik asked her quietly when they were alone again. "Murder Lord Jon, that is? The Imp still denies it..."

Her husbands words to her rand loudly in her head.

"_Robert told me it was Lysa who convinced Jon Arryn that I was being paranoid, and that they didn't need them. Then he mysteriously gets sick and dies."_

"_What are you saying?" she asked him. _

_"I know it is hard to hear," he responded firmly, "but she is a suspect. King Robert will be investigating the death of Jon Arryn. Her letter trying to blame the Lannister could just be her trying to divert the attention to someone else._

When has her husband ever been wrong? Everything he had ever said would happen, always seemed to come true no matter what. He could not flat out tell her that her sister did this, but now, after watching her sister storm off in the distance, she was quite sure that this is exactly what he was saying but why? Why would Lysa do this?

"No," Catelyn said suddenly full of dread. "I do not believe that he poisoned Lord Arryn. Of that crime he is innocent, but that does not matter now. We most get out of here. Winterfell needs us."

* * *

A/N: Everybody is starting to question poor Ned lol. Here we get a Catelyn that is reflecting on everything that has happened so far in regards to current events and past events. I always thought Catelyn was smart enough, and I give her the credit here of knowing that Ned is withholding info... but who knows, she may never get to take that frustration out on her husband, who at this point thinks he has everything under control...

The part at the end is just her going of her own experience so far in this story. So far, every major event her husband has spoke about with her, or too her has come true. She realizes that had she told straight up that Lysa poisoned Jon, she would not have believed him. Family. Duty. Honor. And all that.

Anyway, I knew this chapter wasn't going to be very long, so I wanted to give it to you guys asap. Next one is a doozy though, its Ned and will be my longest chapter yet.


	24. Ned VII

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Eddard

Everything around him seemed to slow as time slipped by him in the quiet of the godswood. This was not Winterfell, but it was still peacefull, the thick wall of trees shut out the chaos of the castle and the noise of the city. Instead, he could hear the birds singing and the sound of leaves rustling as the wind played the grass to a calming tune.

He knelt in front of the heart tree, calm and comfortable, praying to the gods that brought him back that he had been making the right decisions. Long gone were the days where he could afford to doubt himself, as hard as that was. Living twice was a gift and a curse. He could change everything… but he wasn't good enough to do it the first time.

He heard here before he saw her. Her footsteps were loud and interrupted the music the wind was playing with the grass. She was dressed as simply as she was the last time but instead of appreciating it like he had done before, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a plot to get him to let his guard down. To make him think that she wasn't all that different from him.

Life had made him paranoid. Or maybe it was death.

"Why here?" Cersei asked him, standing tall and regal over him as she looked down at him with her stunning green eyes. The details were so much more vivid this time, the price of knowing. It was the small things, always the small things.

Quietly, he thanked the gods that Robert never loved her. It was harsh and cruel to her, but had Robert loved her like he claimed to love Lyanna, this would be much harder.

"So the gods can see," Ned responded, still kneeling, but he closed his eyes again. She felt her lower herself next to him, looking at him expecting him to speak but he wouldn't. Not right away. Instead he tried to recapture the peaceful quiet of the forest, tried to listen again for the wind.

He waited, whether it was a couple of minutes or a couple of hours he did not know. It didn't matter. "It is peaceful here, isn't it?"

He turned to look at her, and she nodded, a lie. The people of the North believed that it was impossible to lie in front of a face of a heart tree. They believed that the lie would die on your lips and the gods would force you to tell the truth. He wasn't sure if that were true or not, because he always believed it so he never tried. But it did not matter. This was not the north.

"Does he try to strike you often?" he asked softly. If she could feign caring, why couldn't he?

"Never on the face before," she responded calmly yet defiance skimmed the surface. "Jamie would have killed him, even if it meant his own life. My brother is worth a hundred of your friend."

"He might be," Ned responded quietly as he stared directly in her eyes. "Maybe I have judged your brother wrong. Once I was a man driven by honor. I saw your brother killed a king her had vowed to protect with his life, that he swore fealty to. He sat upon that throne as an oath breaker!"

He paused then, turning from her and looking far off into the trees. He sighed again before he spoke.

"Yet had he raised a hand against my sister, I would have gone to war for her. Had you been my sister, I would have killed him."

"Yet you have chase mine away," she responded after smiling at him. Her voice turned sad. "He was my only protection here, and you chased him away."

"I protected you," he responded simply. It was the truth. "I will always try to protect the innocent."

Queen Cersei was not innocent. He knew that. He knew that she knew she wasn't innocent but this was the game of thrones…

He sighed again. "I had no choice but to chase your brother my Queen, surely you understand that. What would the great Tywin Lannister do if a member of the Kingsguard attempted to attack him in the streets? I recall a man who destroyed a whole house over disrespect. What would he have done to your brother?"

She did not speak, not because she didn't have anything to say, but because she knew he was right. He chuckled to himself sadly and spoke again, again, quiet, again reflecting, but this time a little sad. "Although… I once had a brother who believed his sibling was in danger and acted in a similar manner to Jamie. He was strangled for it. Forced to watch his father burn as he strangled himself trying to help him. I still see his shadows struggle in that room every time I'm forced to hold court. Unlike you though, my brother didn't love me. Not like yours."

She did not flinch from the truth. Instead she lifted her head a little higher, she was proud of it. "Since we were children together and why not? The Targaryens wed brother and sister for three hundred years. Jamie and I are more than that."

"My son Bran…." he let the question hang and waited for her answer.

As he expected, she was confused by the question. She stared at him blankly before asking "what about him?"

He had to hide his smile behind a great sigh. "Shortly after we left Winterfell he was attacked by an assassin. I had reason to believe that you had something to do with it, that maybe he saw something he shouldn't have and you had Tyrion set up an assassin to kill him."

She looked at him as if he lost his mind. "I won't pretend like I didn't know that your wife was here, or why she was here, but I swear to you, I had nothing to do with your son."

He looked down, barely controlling the smirk forming on his lips before he composed himself. He found himself understanding why people loved playing this game. When you were in control, it was so rewarding.

He looked up at her with a frown attached firmly to his features, confusion dominant in his expression. "Then I am afraid my queen, we have been played against each other. It would seem like we are being set up for war."

A question was on the tip of her toungue but he didn't allow her to ask it, instead he continued to speak, "before you arrived in Winterfell, I received a raven from my Lady wife's sister Lady Lysa of the Vale. She told us that the Lannisters killed her husband. When I arrived here in the capital, Petyr Baelish had suggested the same thing. He even told me that he lost the dagger that was used to try to murder my son to Tyrion in a bet against Jamie."

"Tyrion would never bet against Jamie," Cersie responded confidently.

"I know that now my queen," Ned responded. "I know the truth they would have me believe was the reason that Jon Arryn died, and I know that you had nothing to do with it. Lysa and Petyr killed Lord Arryn and tried to place the blame on you, because they knew what I know now, what Jon knew before he died…. Your children are not the Robert's. They are Jamie's."

"Thank the gods." She was proud.

Ned did not speak and for a while they just stared at each other. When he did, he decided that he would be clear and as honest as possible.

"You know what I must do."

"Must?" She put her hand on his leg, trying to appeal to him. "A true man does what he will, not what he must. The realm needs a strong Hand. Joff will not come of age for years. The right thing to do would be to arrest Lord Baelish and tell the realm of Lysa Arryn's crimes. The Vale would turn on her and we could save ourselves a war. No one wants war again, least of all me."

He paused, really trying his best to read her words, to feel out if they held any truth in them. It didn't matter in the end. Joffery, much like Robert, would not believe in tales of Others and threats against the realm. Jon already did. He was raised a Stark. Winter is coming.

"No," he responded simply. "If I must tell Robert the truth, I must tell him the entire truth. I would protect you my queen. I do not kill children. When he returns from his hunt, you and your children, all three, should be gone. You can't go to Casterly Rock either, Robert would look for you there. I could provide a ship to the Free Cities, or even farther, to the Summer Isles or the Port of Ibben. As far as possible."

"Exile." she responded. "A bitter cup to drink out of."

"This is life or death," he said. "You can either leave or be hunted, you know Robert as well as I. You know his wrath."

The queen stood. "And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? She asked softly, her eyes searching his face. "You should have taken the realm for yourself. It was there for the taking."

"You are right," Ned smiled at her simply. "I should have but I didn't. Maybe it was a mistake."

"It was, my lord," Cersei insisted. "When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

She turned up her hood to hide her face and left turned to leave him there. He waited for the footsteps to become distant before he called after her. "I do not intend to die my Queen. I hope you know that."

* * *

The bright light of moon was the only thing that broke up the darkness during the hour of the wolf. He waited for the rest of the castle to sleep before he woke his daughters, and the rest of the household who would be leaving, from their slumber. They would be gone before the castle rose with the sun.

In front of him, two direwolves trotted along slowly next to his daughters, each on high alert, looking around for danger. The fact that he killed one and let the other get away in his past life was not lost on him. If they were around the last time, how would have things been different? He supposed he was about to find out.

When they reached the docks, the ship was ready to leave. The flags of house Manderly and Stark flew high above the stern of the ship, blowing gently with the wind. The captain and his crew had been working long and hard for this trip, and Ned wanted to make sure they were thanked and properly paid.

"Captain," he said, reaching out to shake the mans hand firmly. "I take it you have everything you need for your journey home?"

"Aye, Lord Stark," he responded simply. "I also have that boy your requested go with us in a room below. The blacksmith was sad to lose him, but your letter convinced him to let the boy go. If the winds are good we will land in White Harbor in two moons. I will make sure to send word when we do."

"Send word to Moat Cailin as well," Ned responded. The captain nodded before he turned away and started shouting orders to his crew.

Robb would be there by then. He had already sent a letter to his son, to have him prepare for war. He hoped that having Sansa and Arya back home, would cause his wife to return to Winterfell as well, but with Hoster's condition it was tough to guess what his wife would do.

He smiled to himself then. Before he knew what would happen, now somethings he could only guess.

Ned found himself walking to find his daughters when he found Syrio alone staring off into the sea. "You miss home," Ned said walking up behind him. It wasn't a question but a statement judging on the direction he was looking.

Syrio looked at him strangely, but Ned only smiled. "Your eyes shout the truth. You look towards bravos."

"Yet I travel to the North," Syrio responded simply, but he wasn't contesting it, just stating fact.

"I will reward you for your service," Ned replied. "Although no reward would be enough for you protecting my daughters on this journey. I can not thank you enough."

Syrio nodded at him before he spoke again and turned back toward the sea. Ned would not bother him anymore, and again began his quest to find his daughters.

They had already settled in cabins below the ship when he found them. Jory and Theon stood guard outside their rooms. He decided he would visit Arya first.

She was trying, but failing to keep herself awake as she stared out her window, Nymeria snuggled tightly at her feet.

"My little wolf," he said quietly, watching with amusement as she jumped at the sound of a visitor. She reminded him so much of Lyanna it was scary. Even her smallest of mannerisms, the way she wiped her eyes in defiance, telling the world that she wasn't sleep even though she clearly was, the way she would always try to train and wield a sword when the world told her it wasn't her place, her ferocity and heart, it was all Lyanna.

"Father," she breathed, getting up and running to hug him. "Why can't you come with us?"

He smiled sadly at her. "There are things that are about to happen that I need to be here for, things that I can't explain to you right now. Just know that I love you and that I just want you to be safe."

"But who will protect you," she asked, her eyes searching his own for an answer. She started to ramble on and on, much like Lyanna would when she was tired. "… maybe Nymeria could stay here with you. She could protect you. Her and Lady, I'm sure Sansa wouldn't mind."

Ned laughed and smiled. "The wolves belong with you. I will have Jory and Theon here with me. I promise I won't put myself into too much danger."

"Swear it," she cried. "On the old gods and new."

"I swear my little wolf," he responded and held her tighter before letting her go. "Now get some rest. You will be home before you even realize it. I need you to listen to your sister and don't give the septa too much trouble. We all just want the best for you."

"I promise father," she responded as she lied back down and put her head on her pillow. Nymeria got comfortable again at her feet and he smiled at the sight. He realized something then. Once upon a time he had suggested his sister marry his friend, but Lyanna wasn't a typical lady and neither was Arya,

"Arya," he started, "remember when I told you that you would have to grow up to be a proper lady and marry a lord and have his children and raise them to be fine lords and ladies of their own right?"

"Aye," she responded sadly.

"That isn't you," he said simply. "You are much like your aunt. You'd rather get up and train with your brothers than learn pleasantries in a yard and that is okay."

She smiled brightly at him. "Really father?"

"Aye," he responded, "but if that is your choice, then do it. Those times when you get up early and you work hard. Those times where you sneak out in the middle of the night and work hard. Those times when you don't feel like working. You're too tired. You don't want to push yourself, but you do it anyway. That is what it takes to reach your dreams. Remember this, and the world is yours."

"I will father," she said and yawned before she closed her eyes. He waited quietly by the door until she was sleep and whispered, "I love you my little wolf," before he turned and closed her door.

* * *

Sansa and Arya were opposite. Where Arya was tired and fighting sleep, Sansa was awake and alert, taking in everything and trying to figure out what was going on. While he sometimes missed the daughter from his last life, he had managed to instill this confidence she had now that she didn't have this early the last time. She wasn't naive. She was strong. She was everything a man could want a daughter to be.

"Father," she breathed, just as Arya did and hugged him.

"Sansa," he said. "I hope I do not burden you too much. I meant what I said. I need you to be the Stark in Winterfell."

"But Robb, Bran, and even Rickon would be more proper choices father, you know this."

He frowned at her. "I do not know that I do. When Robb, Jon, and you sat with me while the people of Winter Town brought us their issues, who came up with the best solutions that lead our people to prosperity? Who did those people thank for not only listening to their problems, but coming up with kind and credible solutions to their needs?"

He laughed then before continuing, "You know these Lords, these ladies, they have it wrong. They always say that you need a son to carry on your legacy, but they are wrong. You, Sansa, will carry on my legacy just as much as Robb, Bran, or Rickon will. I do not doubt it. I hope you will not either."

She smiled at him. "I won't anymore."

"Good," Ned said and his expression turned serious. "It is time that I tell you the truth. Winter is coming and by the the time you get home, Robb will be readying to leave with the banners. War is coming."

"Why?" Sansa asked.

"There are many of reasons," Ned responded not quite knowing where to start. "I found out the reason that Jon Arryn died for. King Robert's children are not his. Queen Cersei's children are not his, but they belong to her brother, the kingslayer."

"You plan on telling him?" Sansa asked. Ned frowned, she clearly did not think that was the right choice. "There has to be a better way that will not lead to war."

Ned sighed before responding quietly, "I do not believe that I will ever get the chance to tell him."

Sansa gasped. "You believe the Queen will make an attempt at his life."

"She already has," Ned responded truthfully. "You have spent time around Robert and you where there when they had that argument about fighting in the melee. How do you think a man like Robert would respond?"

"He wanted to fight?"

"I talked him out of it," Ned responded, "but just like I couldn't save Jon Arryn or even Maester Pycelle, I do not know how much longer I will be able to keep him alive."

"Yet you stay," Sansa scolded him and he felt ashamed. Maybe he raised her too well.

"I will not be here long," Ned responded. "If things go south, I promise that I will leave. I won't be stuck here."

"That is dangerous and irresponsible," Sansa responded.

"Our lives have always been danger," Ned responded. If he wanted her to be the Sark in Winterfell, he had to treat her like it. Before she could speak, he continued. "There is something you must know. Jon… Jon isn't my son. He is your aunt Lyanna's. Rhaegar Targaryen never kidnapped your aunt. They fell in love at Harrenhall and decided to run away together. He got his marriage to Elia Martell annulled and married your aunt in secret. By the time I found out, it was too late. The war was already over. I told the world Jon was my son, and brought Ser Arthur back to Winterfell to look after him."

Sansa stared at him in shock before gasping. "If King Robert dies, you plan to put him on the throne."

He grimaced and shook his head. "Even if Robert does not die, Jon will be King. Sansa you know the work we have been doing to secure the North. The others, we have evidence that they have risen and that they will attack. King Robert does not believe this threat. Joffrey will not believe this threat. For the sake of humanity, we need a King that can unite the realm against this threat."

"You believe Jon could handle it?" Sansa asked, worry in her voice.

"I will be there to help him, as will Robb and Arthur. He has to be able to handle it, or the realm as we know it could end."

She paused for a moment, before speaking again. "I will be there too," she said, "I will help him by making sure that the North still is ready for anything while you all are away."

Ned smiled. "I'm glad you understand."

"Winter is coming father," Sansa responded, "but mother has words too. Jon is my family so I must support him. I have a duty to the North, my people to help guide them through winter and you have taught me that although honor goes last, it is still important."

"Aye," Ned smiled again. "I must leave now, so the ship can leave, but understand that I love you more than anything."

"I know," Sansa smiled brightly back at him.

"Hug Bran and Rickon for me when you return home, and don't be afraid to teach them their duty as I have taught you. As unfortunate as it might be, the young are often forced to grow up too soon in times of war."

"I will father. I will teach them everything you have taught me."

"And when the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies..." Ned started.

"The pack survives," Sansa finished. He hugged her tightly one last time, and turned to walk out the door.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait. A lot has been happening in my life. As you all probably know, Earthquakes just hit Puerto Rico. Well, my good brother and his fiance lived there, and in those earthquakes much of their apartment they lived in was destroyed. Long story short, he had to come back home to New York, and with no where to stay, I gave up my office, where I stayed up to type and played my video games so that they could have a place to stay so its just been hard to write new chapters and edit with all thats going on.

Also, I will not lie, this chapter probably should have been longer. I planned on adding more, but I lost the will to edit as much as I wanted to today with the news of Kobe Bryant.

I know it seems silly to idolize a person you never met, but you must understand, I grew up in a generation that shouted out Kobe every time we shot anything, whether that was a wad of paper in a trash can or a ball in a hoop. Through all his faults, he inspired a generation of people to work hard in all they do, no matter what that is... so yeah today has been depressing. The only athlete I looked up to more was Derek Jeter (whoever didn't vote for him should lose their vote!).

Edit: I forgot to add that i added two quotes directly by Kobe in this chapter when Ned talks to his daughters. Kudos to you if you recognize them.

I know this A/N had nothing to do with the story, and for that I'm sorry but I just had to vent for a moment. Next chapter will be Robb, and I hope I can get that out sooner, but I can't make any promises.

Until then, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. You all are great and big motivators.


	25. Robb III

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Robb

The courtyard rang to the song of swords.

William's pace had been frantic. He was using his size and strength to his advantage, and for most opponents that would have worked. Robb was not most opponents.

The problem with William's style was that he didn't have the conditioning for it. Even now as the boy swung wildly at him, Robb could she his labored breath burst through the cold air, his chest moving back and forth rapidly as his technique faded away into pure power and strength. The blood of Skagos was strong in him.

If someone could get it through his thick skull to marry his strength with the skill that Ser Arthur and Ser Rodrik had taught, but the boy had chose to ignore, he could be dangerous. Better than them all.

But William never liked the yard. He never was fond of trading blows with the other boys his age and he was only here because he still felt guilty for Bran. It was noble, wanting to be a knight because your best friend was no longer able to, but it was also folly. Did he really want it?

Still, he pressed on, hacking and slashing at Robb, trying his hardest to land the knock out blow that had already sent one poor boy to Maester Luwin. Robb ducked and dodged. He was trying to mock his cousin, trying to get him to see the point. He wasn't even using his sword anymore. It wasn't working.

"Stop running and fight me," he spat, taking large gulps of air between each word. He was struggling now. Ser Arthur would have taken this time to embarrass him, to teach him a lesson that would hopefully make him want to do better. Robb would try to do the same.

"Ash you wish." he charged forward, going on the offensive. William stumbled backward, he couldn't really defend himself, he was too tired. When he raised his sword, Robb decided to beat him with a simple move, one that Ser Arthur had taught them all when they were young. He went underneath his sword with a sweeping blow that crashed against the back of his legns and sent him staggering. If he hadn't been so exhausted, the boy might not have fell flat on his face.

He waited for him to roll over before he pressed his boot firmly on his chest, and pointed his practice sword firmly at his neck. "Yield." His cousin looked up him and scowled before he let his head fall, no longer attempting to hide that he was winded. There would be no rest.

"Get up," Robb scowled, removing his boot from the boy's chest. "You disgrace this yard. Your teachers were Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Cassel whose family has been serving ours long before you were a thought in your fathers head."

The boy struggled to move. "Get up!" he yelled this time. William struggled to his feet, chest still moving in and out rapidly. He lifted his sword, determination etched in his features.

"You are bigger and stronger than me, yet you can not touch me because you refuse to use the skill you were taught," he scolded. "Attack!"

The boy took another large gulp of air and charged, again his sword raised high above his head. Robb kicked him, hard, in his stomach and the boy fell over in front of him, spilling the contents of his breakfast on his boots.

Robb waited before he was finished, before he kneeled down next to his cousin, and lifted his chin so they were face to face, eye to eye… "Is this what you want?"

Defiance stared back at him. Robb smiled. "Get up!"

"Robb," he heard Maester Luwin call out. Robb looked up, saw a frown on the old Maester's face and sighed. "I think that is enough, besides, I have received word from your brother and Lord Stark."

Robb nodded and stood up, extending his hand out to his fallen cousin. He turned to Hallis Mollen. "Let him rest, and then put him in the classes with Rickon and the rest of the children. If he wants to act like he has never picked up a sword, we will treat him like it."

* * *

He read Jon's letter three times before he put it down. He couldn't help but admit the feelings of jealousy stabbed at him as he read it. He had to deal with the responsibility of Winterfell, while it seemed like Jon was having a great adventure with Ser Arthur. He knew it wasn't that simple but still… The respect for his father grew more and more each day. He wasn't sure how he handled it all, but he did and Robb had a duty to his people to do the same.

Still, settling petty disputes between the small fold wasn't as exciting as capturing the Mountain. He read Jon's letter again;

_Brother,_

_We have captured the Mountain. I cannot tell you where we have taken them in case this letter gets intercepted, but I can tell you that we have him. I trust you will be able to figure it out. The men tell me that I should be happy and celebrating that it was my plan that captured the Mountain but I confess to you that I am not happy. I cannot celebrate. Revenge is not as sweet as it sounds. All I feel is sorrow. Sorrow for what never was. The North remembers, and it seems like I do as well. _

_In the end, the Mountain was not smart. He thought the caught the men and woman of the village he was attacking, he thought that we hadn't known about him but we had been scouting, we saw him coming and figured out his plan pretty easily. Then we trapped him, and his men crumbled. Only the Mountain was left standing, but what is a Mountain to Ser Arthur Dayne?"_

_The last time we wrote, we spoke about having dreams in shades of yellow and red. I still have those dreams. Sometimes I wake in the morning with the taste of rabbits fur and blood on my tongue but lately it has been different. In the crypts where our ancestors rest, we learned a lot about our family. I found myself dreaming about that too. Except, instead of red eyes, I see eyes white and as pure as snow telling me to free him from his slumber. _

_I'm not sure what it means, but it scares me. I will not lie._

_Word has gotten out that father has chased the Kingslayer from King's Landing licking his wounds. War is coming brother. I can feel it. From what we have been taught of history, we both known that the old lion of Casterly Rock will not like what has happened. He is gathering an army. _

_I do not pretend to know what father has planned, but I hope that he has written to you to do the same. We will need you soon brother. I will need you soon. I can't explain it, but I feel it. Everything is about to change._

_G__ive Bran and Rickon my love,_

_Jon_

Jon had become a master of saying a lot without writing much. Perhaps it was a testament to their brotherhood that Robb knew exactly what Jon was talking about. Perhaps he was naive, and anybody could figure it out, although he hoped not.

It was obvious that they took the Mountain to Riverrun. It would have been the safest place to take him. Their father did not want Jon in King's Landing, and Riverrun would have been the closest place they could take him but it also made his mother's home a target. His mother had already drawn the ire of Lord Tywin Lannister by taking his son, the fact that Riverrun held his loyal bannerman prisoner would not calm it.

If Robb got word that Tywin was beginning to march, he would have to rally the North, and quickly.

The other part of the letter wasn't as straight forward. People would think they were crazy if they told them they dreamed through the eyes of their wolves let alone if someone figured out that Jon was talking about dreaming of a dragon….

A sudden knock on the door caused him to jump a bit. He had been expecting her, but didn't realize that she would come so fast.

"Come in," he felt like his father, and the curious look on her face as she walking in only reinforced that. Father always had a way of knowing who was there to see him.

She was as tall and lean as the day he met her. She had begun serving his family not long after Rickon was born, father requested for her specifically, and was one of the only people that could cure his wolf blooded wildness. His father had always rewarded her for her loyalty. Said that she had done more for them then he could understand. He was right, of course, Robb _didn't_ understand… but his father trusted her. Bran trusted her. Rickon trusted her. So would he.

"Osha," he smiled, gesturing for her to sit down across from him.

She took her seat and stared at him blankly. It wasn't often he saw her smiling except for the times in which she spent with his brothers. He didn't expect her to know why she was summoned, and guessed that she could have been nervous. "M'lord."

"How's Rickon, and Bran?" he questioned, hoping that she would relax.

"Rickon is as wild as ever," she answered slowly before pausing, a small smile fighting against her frigid features. "Bran is… better. Bran is better. He is slowly getting back to himself. I took them both for a ride in the wolfswood yesterday. The saddle that the little lion left Bran works, they enjoyed themselves."

"Did you take guards?" he frowned.

She laughed. "If by guards you meant the wolves then yes. Even Lyarra came. You'd have to be stupid to attack the little Lords with their wolves around."

Robb smiled at her again, but suddenly he felt nervous. He didn't want to come off as insensitive, but she was the only person he could think of asking. The truth was that they heard rumors about the free folk, tales that some of them had special powers to take over the minds of animals. Wargs, they called them.

Old nan told tales of them too, of course, but all of her stories were of old legends that seemed so long ago. It was possible that Osha would know a living one. Then again, it was possible that she would just stare at him with the same blank face as she was, and think that he was crazy.

Bravery won out.

"I have to ask you something," he told her just as slowly as she answered him. He closed his eyes and sighed. "When I dream at night, I sometimes dream in shades of yellow. Sometimes I'm locked in a change with nothing to do but stare up at the moon and howl to be let out from my prison. Other times, I'm running through the godswood with my brothers, hunting deer and rabbit. It all feels like a dream, only when I wake up, I can still taste the blood of the animal I have hunted on my tongue, I can still smell them. It doesn't go away."

She stared at him as blankly as she did before, except it was worst because head turned to the side and for a moment she looked as if she was examining his very existence.

"So you too?"

Her questioned stunned him. What did she mean. The look on his face must have given it away because she laughed loudly at him, boisterous and full of mirth. "You Starks are full of surprises."

"What do you mean?"

"Your wild brother, Rickon likes to tell stories. He will gather all the other children around and tell them tales of how he went hunting with Shaggy Dog while they all were sleeping. They laugh at him and tell him he is dreaming, but I know the truth. I've seen the true North boy. Wargs you are, the litter of you."

"He does?"

She nodded. "Bran too except he is scared of them. He told me so himself. He came to me, much for the same reasons you come to me. He thought that being a free folk, I would know."

He was interested now. "Do you know?"

"A few. I knew a man once that was very fond of an eagle. He could control it, bond with it when we lived beyond the wall. He would use it to scout ahead for danger. It was useful. Orell was his name. I haven't really seen him since we left the wall. Word is that he went south and settled near Moat Cailin."

"He was a warg too?"

"A skinchanger," she replied like it was obvious. "Your little are wargs because of your wolves. Legend says that the Starks of old had direwolves. It is in your blood."

"Most of the ancestors in the crypts have statues of wolves next to them… " Robb trailed off, his mind racing with the answers she had given him.

"Aye," she shrugged.. "I will tell you like I tell Bran. When they come, don't fight it. Every day you kneel and talk to the heart tree. Might be that the gods are trying to talk back."

An odd silence passed before he spoke again. "Thank you."

"It was no problem m'lord," she told him. "Was there anything else you'd be needing?"

"If you could fetch Bran and Rickon for me? Maester Luwin too. Jon and my father have sent letters. I was hopping to let them know the contents."

"Of course," she responded and rose from her chair with a nod. Robb smiled at her before she turned and left. He waited a moment or two for her to be completely gone before he let out a deep sigh. She had left him a lot to think about but those thoughts would best be left for later. He still had a letter from his father to read.

He broke the seal and read,

_Robb,_

_I write to you bringing both good news and bad. Your grandfather before you always told us that it is always best to lead with love, so that is what I will do._

_By the time you get this letter, Sansa and Arya will be on the way home. I am sending most of the household home too. More than anything in the world, I want your sisters and brothers to be safe from what is to come, and there is no better place for them than Winterfell. After all, there must always be a Stark in our home. _

_This obviously means that something will happen in King's Landing. Do not worry for me son, as I have a plan to escape shall things go south. I will not lie to you Robb, war is coming. I can feel it. The time is coming where we will be able to do what is right… I hope you understand. Remember what I told you in the godswood. Winter is coming! _

_I know you are ready and I trust that you will do what is right but remember, just because it is right does not mean it is easy. _

_Summon the banners Robb. They will question you. They will tell you that you are not your father, and ask you what gives you the right. Remember that you are a Stark of Wintefell, that the blood of the King's of Winter runs through your veins, that you will fight for what is right, that the North Remembers. For us to survive winter, we must unite the South. It has to be done!_

_Be weary. Be safe. Trust your men around you. Listen to your uncle Benjen. I will see you soon. _

_Tell Bran and Rickon that I love them and make sure to bring Lyarra with you. I do miss her._

_Love,_

_Lord Eddard Stark_

Robb read it twice before frowning. His father had told him this would happen, had told him to be prepared… but it never seemed as real as this was.

Maester Luwin entered the room first and he looked up at him grimly before handing him the letter. He watched as various emotions played across the old Maester's face.

"You know what must be done," Robb spoke in a voice that reminded him of his father. Maester Luwin nodded tightly. "Summon the banners."

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I know its been a while, but the good news is that my brother-in-law has landed on his feet again, so I have my space back. I'll be able to write and edit and rewrite etc more often, so expect the next chapter soon.

Hope you like this chapter! Kind of a filler I know, but next chapter we will get to some interesting action (at least I think it is.) As always, I do appreciate the likes, reviews, follows, everything!

Thanks!


	26. Theon II

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Theon

Time seemed to crawl forward once she had gone. It was like the world had stopped both figuratively and literally. Once Lord Stark watched until the ship that carried his daughters North had gone, his orders had been simple.

"No man or woman who doesn't serve house Stark enters my tower. I don't give a damn if it is the king himself banging on those doors, he will wait for me to exit."

It was a strange command, paranoid even but his word was law and so no one questioned it, and no one dared break it. He found himself impressed. This is what true loyalty bought.

He did find himself quite bored, however. He spent most his time during the day training with the men in the small hall, and most of his nights were spent standing guard at the main entrance with Jory.

Jory took his duty seriously, he wasn't one to say much or speak often, so most nights, he was left alone with nothing but his thoughts… and often time his thoughts were of hair kissed by fire shooting arrows into random trees. In Winterfell, she had been just Lord Stark's daughter, but in King's Landing she became something more.

He tried and failed to make the thoughts leave. He thought instead about what Robb or even Jon would do to him if he ever acted. He thought about how Lord Stark might feel. It wasn't meant to be. He was the disgraced son of a Lord that no one liked or respected. It would never happen.

So instead, he tried to be like Jory but that was hard because Jory was so boring. He never seemed to laugh at any of the jokes Theon attempted, and only seemed to grunt responses to other questions at him.

What made it worst, is that only one person tried to enter the tower. It was Petyr Baelish, and even as they told him that Lord Stark was busy at the time, they had sent a man who had given them an answer, the man still tried to insist on entering.

Jory put a sword to his throat and told him to leave.

It was odd, the only thing Lord Stark seemed to care about in the few days that his daughters had gone was whether or not the king had returned or the list from the gaoler. It was a simple thing that Lord Stark did when they arrived in King's Landing. He assigned one of the men to take over the duties of the black cells.

"I need to know anybody who is imprisoned there and when," he had told the man. These days, he scoured over that list daily, seemingly looking for a name that had not shown up yet. He tried not to show it, but Theon knew the signs. He had grown up under his watchful eyes, Lord Stark had taught him lessons, and sparred with him. Theon could see it.

Lord Stark was worried about something.

A light towering in the distance cast a large shadow that betrayed the man approaching the tower of the hand took him from his thoughts. The person hadn't even gotten the chance to round the corner when Jory, next to him, yelled. "Halt! Who goes there?"

The man rounded the corner with urgency. "I come on behalf of the King. His grace commands the lord Hand's presence at once."

* * *

The Red Keep was dark and still as Lord Stark led them across the inner bailey. It was not hard to figure out where they were going, the royal apartments were in Maegor's Holdfast., the famous castle-within-a-castle. Ser Blount guarded the far end of the bridge, but Theon was barely spared a glance as they rushed past him.

Everything seemed to happen so quickly. Lord Stark was already awake and seemed to be waiting for someone to come to the door. He had commanded two other men take over his and Jory's guard duties, and before he knew it, Theon was staring at the face of Ser Barristan the bold. He would never forget it. He was as pale as his armour, and his face gave away something that the king's stewards did not. Something was terribly wrong.

The steward opened the door.

"Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King," he announced as they entered the chamber. It was hot and reeked of rotting flesh.

"Bring him here," Robert's voice called out, but it had not been the loud, booming voice that Theon had grown to expect from the King. This voice was but a shell of that man shouting drunkenly at the tourney.

The new Grand Maester hadn't arrived yet, so King Robert was surrounded by Pycell's acolytes. His brother, Lord Renly, paced before the shuttered windows while servents moved back and forth, feeding logs to the fire and boiling wine. The Queen sat prettily on the edge of the bed beside her husband, but her eyes were glued to Lord Stark.

"Ned," the king whispered when he saw him. Now that they had gotten closer, it was hard not to gag, the smell of rotten flesh was powerful. The King obviously had been hurt, that was clear, and if his condition was as serious as it looked, he would die soon. "Come….closer"

Lord Stark rushed to his side, collapsing next to his friend. He wondered what he would do if Lord Stark were him and the King were Robb. How would he be able to handle that?

"What happened?" Lord Stark asked.

"A boar." Renly was still in his hunting greens, he cloak and face spattered with blood.

"A devil," the king corrected. "My own fault. Too much wine, damn me to hell. Missed my thrust."

"And where were the rest of you?" Ned demanded. "Where was Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard?"

Renly's mouth twitched but Theon did not hear his response. His eyes were glued to Lord Stark's hand as it grasped the blanket covering the king. He lifted the blanket, and Theon looked at the ceiling. The boar had ripped the king from groin to nipple with its tusk. He wanted to gag. He knew he couldn't. He was grateful when lord Stark let the blanket fall.

"Stinks," Robert said. "I can smell it. Bastard did me good, but I paid him back in kind, Ned." The king actually smiled, his teeth stained with blood. "I drove a knife right through his eye. For the feast," he whispered. "Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to speak with Ned."

"Robert," the queen tried, but the king dismissed her anyway.

"Jory and Theon stay," Ned said before they could turn to leave. Again, the queen went to complain, but again, the king dismissed her. Soon the room that held many only held four.

"Damn you, Robert," Lord Stark said when they were alone. He sat on the bed now, he body twisted to look back at him friend. "Why do you always have to be so headstrong."

"Ah, fuck you, Ned," the King responded. Lord Stark smiled. "I was living life, how could I have known? I killed the bastard didn't I? Ought to do the same for you. Can't leave a man to hunt in peace. Ser Robar found me. Ser Arthur got Gregor did he? Don't think I don't know who gave that command."

"It was Jon," Eddard replied. "Jon got the Mountain."

The kings laugh turned into a grunt as a spasm of pain hit him. "Good for him. Not much for a bastard to do other than make a name for himself. You raised him right Ned, all of them. Wish that I could've done the same." He lifted his hand, and pointed at the table. "Paper and ink. There, on the table. Write what I tell you."

Lord Stark took the paper without saying a word, and grabbed the quill.

The will was standard. He gave command that Lord Stark would serve as his regent and protector of the realm when he died to rule in his stead until his son Joffrey came of age. When Lord Stark was done, he looked at his friend, sorrow deep in his eyes.

"Robert," Ned said in a voice thick with grief. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have done more, I could've did more… I should of went with you. I wouldn't have let you face that boar alone. I'm not afraid of you."

"Nonsense," Robert responded quickly. "I couldn't listen to advise, I was never wrong. The realm knows what a wretched king I've been. You know but your grief won't let you admit the truth. Bad as Aerys, the gods spare me."

"No," Ned told his dying friend, "not as bad as Aerys, no one could be."

The king closed his eyes and seemed to relax. "Killed by a pig," he muttered. "Ought to laugh, but it hurts too much."

"You always said you would go out with riding into battle, a hunting spear in your hand, or a woman at your waist," Lord Stark smiled.

The king smiled back. It was odd, the man knew he was going to die but he seemed happy now. Content. "A woman at my waist would be much better. Do you think Cersei….?"

Lord Stark laughed but ignored the questions. "Shall I call them back?"

The servents were the first in the room, rushing as quickly as they could to feed the fires. The queen did not come back, which was odd to Theon, but it seemed to relieve Lord Stark of any burden he may have had.

King Robert did not seem to miss her. He called for Ser Barristan and his brother to stand in witness as he pressed his seal into the hot yellow wax that was on his letter. "Now give me something for the pain and let me die."

A acolyte rushed forward and gave him milk of the poppy. He drank from the cup happily and threw the empty cup aside. "Will I deam?"

Lord Stark responded. "You will, my lord."

"Good," he said, smiling. "I will give Lyanna your love, Ned. Take care of my children for me."

He paused for a moment, before nodding. "Tell her something for me?"

"Aye," the king responded.

"Tell her I kept my promise."

* * *

They were walking quickly across the bridge when Lord Renly emerged from Maegor's Holdfast. "Lord Eddard," he called after him, "a moment, if you would be so kind."

Renly walked to his side. "Send your men away."

"No." They met in the center of the bridge, the dry moat beneath them. "My men stick with me."

Renly paused, stopping for a moment to stare at him and Jory before he spoke. "That letter." He got close to Lord Stark, there faces almost touching. Jory's hand immediately went to his sword, but Lord Stark gestured to him, telling him to stand down.

"Was it the regency? Has my brother named you Protector?" He did not wait for a reply. "My lord, I have thirty men in my personal guard, and other friends beside, knights and lords. Give me an hour, and I can put a hundred swords in your hand."

Theon snorted. That was stupid. Lord Stark agreed. "And what should I do with a hundred swords, my lord?"

"Strike! Now, while the castle sleeps." Renly's voice dropped so low that he could barely be heard. "We must get Joffrey away from his mother and take him in hand. Protector or no, the man who holds the king holds the kingdom. We should seize Myrcella and Tommen as well. Once we have the children, Cersei will not oppose us. The council will confirm you as Lord Protector and make Joffrey your ward."

Lord Stark shook his head coldly. "Robert is not dead yet. Besides," this time it was Lord Stark who stepped closer and used a hushed voice, "we still would be outnumbered. I sent most of the men I had back North with my daughters. I have 500 fighting men here. You have 100. The gold cloaks number in the 1500's."

"They are easily bribed. We could get Baelish -" Lord Renly started.

"You trust Baelish?" Lord Stark cut him off coldly. "We easily could be overrun, and even if we had the children, I refuse to hurt them if Cersei was to order an attack."

Lord Renly sighed. "Then what should we do? We cannot wait for the Lannisters to strike. Every moment we give Cersei is dangerous."

"We retreat," Ned responded. "I understand that you have friends in Highgarden? I will meet you at the hour of the wolf. War is coming Renly. Tywin Lannister is already summoning an army to attack Riverrun. I have much to tell you, but it must wait until we are safe."

"The hour of the wolf then." Renly turned away and went back across the moat, to the tower where his brother lay dying.

Lord Stark waited until they returned to the tower before he spoke again. "Ready the men. We leave as soon as possible. Tell them to pack lightly. Theon, walk with me."

"Check the gaolers list for new names," Lord Stark commanded as soon as they entered his bedchambers. He had quickly lit a few candles so that they could better see and began hastily packing everything that was important to him. He then sat down and began to write a letter.

Theon quickly found the list he was asked to read and shook his head. "There are no new names on these list my lord."

Ned sighed heavily.

"Is there a name you are looking for?" Theon looked up at Lord Stark. He didn't look up from the letter he was writing. When he was finished, he sealed it with his sigil and only then did he respond.

"Aye." It was a simple response, a response that meant he expected no more questions. Still Theon asked.

"What name are you looking for?"

"I dare not tell you Theon, that would put you in danger." He sighed and frowned, seemingly deep in thought. "I've already put you all in too much danger as it is. I just pray to the gods that I am wrong."

"About what my lord?"

Lord Stark stared at him for a moment, long and hard before shaking his head. "Do not let it concern you for now Theon, just go and prepare yourself for departure. I do believe that we will be taking in the comforts of Storms End and Highgarden soon."

Theon nodded and turned to leave, the names on the gaolers list stuck in his head.

* * *

A:N/: Another one for you guys on a fine Thursday evening. I actually updated the previous two chapters as well. The last one, because as one fantastic review pointed out, I confused the godswood and the wolfswood in my haste to edit. It has been fixed. And then one before that, I updated due to the fact that Ned told Sansa Robb would be gone by the time she returned back home... thats actually super inaccurate lol. I think in the books it took two weeks from White Harbor to King's Landing, and then the ride from White Harbor to Kings Landing should only be about another two weeks. I believe it took about two moons for Robb to summon all of the banners. Atleast thats what I found when I tried to find a timeline that was accurate.

Anyways, once again I appreciate your thoughts and likes and follows! Thanks! Tell me what you think!

Until next time!


	27. Jon V

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Jon

Cold sweat fell down his face like a water ran down river as his body jumped forward violently and threw he from his sleep. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of his heart thumping against his chest, and the faint sound of someone calling his name. Sam. It was Sam.

"Jon are you alright?" his friend called out. It took him a moment to come out of his daze. "Aye," he responded, still failing to catch his breath. He let his head fall back on the pillow, taking the time to do the breathing exercises that Ser Arthur taught them for fighting. They worked for other things too.

"If you say so," Sam responded. They were actually pretty lucky. Most of the men were stuck in tents outside of Riverrun, and with Lord Beric's arrival that meant that even more of them slept in the dirt. Ser Arthur's presence was the only thing that kept them in a warm bed in the castle. The gods knew that Lord Edmure didn't like him. Jon couldn't blame him. Not yet.

He waited until the familiar sounds of a snoring Sam filled the room before he rose from the bed and quickly dressed. He grabbed the bag that held his egg, and quickly departed the room. It was still early, early enough to where the only people that would be up were the servants who were getting breakfast ready so that allowed him to go unseen to the kennels where Ghost was.

Ghost hated the kennels, he had since he was a small pup in Winterfell, but this wasn't his castle, so Jon did not have a choice. He opened the gate and beckoned his wolf forward, but Ghost stared at him defiantly. "Come on boy," he told him, weakly, "you know this is not my fault."

Ghost got up and stretched his legs before trotting slowly beside him on there way to the godswood. Well it really was a garden. Lady Catelyn had been right. It was bright and airy, and the air smelled of fresh flowers. Tall redwoods loomed large, casting booming shadows over tinkling streams. Birds sang here, and the air didn't have that frigid smell of the North. He wasn't sure he liked it.

"If this all works out," he asked Ser Arthur before, when they traveled the roads and where not stuck feeling useless in a castle, "will I have to turn my back on the old gods and worship the seven?"

Arthur sighed. "No, but it would make things easier." He was being honest with him, of course, but that didn't mean Jon liked the answer. The old gods had never turned their backs on him, and he would not do the same. They gave him guidance and peace. Even stuck in Riverrun, where the shortest way from the Great Hall to the keep was through the godswood, he still could find a quiet spot for peace.

He went off the main path and when he found a quiet place, he let his body fall to the ground. He took his egg out of his bag and placed it next to him, making sure to cover it was leaf in case he was found. He then took more leaves and made a pillow to rest his head and lied down. Ghost followed and put his great big head on his chest. He had grown so fast.

He closed his eyes then, and for the first time in a while, felt at peace. There wasn't any nightmares, and he wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping when he heard a voice call out to him. He knew that he was safe because Ghost was there, but it didn't stop a slight panic from rising. His direwolf though, he was so smart. He had already re-position himself and was hiding the egg with his body, starting blankly into the clearing.

"Jon," the voice called out again. It was Ser Arthur. He should have figured it as soon as he heard it. Ghost probably wouldn't have let anybody else get that close. He opened his eyes to stare at the old night before closing them again. "I'm fine," he said before Ser Arthur could could even get a word in.

Ser Arthur sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what is going on. Sam told me that you were talking in your sleep again, said you were begging to someone not to kill her."

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. It was only when the footsteps started to fade that he found the courage to speak. "She was beautiful you know. So small, so fragile, but a beauty like none I've ever seen."

"Jon," Ser Arthur said, but he was ignored and Jon kept talking. "Her eyes were as black as the night's sky. So pretty, so precious. I could stare into them forever. I see how my father could love her."

"Elia," Ser Arthur took a deep breath, his footsteps growing louder as he walked back over.

"She wore a pretty yellow dress that matched the headband in her hair. Her neckline was embroidered with the red sun and golden spear of her house. She shined brightly like the moon that night."

"What night?" Ser Arthur asked, his voice shaken. For the first time in his life he sounded afraid.

"My brother, he couldn't sleep. So she had taken him down to the gardens of the Red Keep to soothe him. I can hear her voice, although I do not know the song she sang. It was so sweet, a beautiful melody…."

Jon took a deep, labored breath before continuing. It was hard. "You know for being so big, he sure is quick," he croaked. "One minute she was singing my brother a song, and the next she was being thrown to the ground like she was nothing."

"Jon," Ser Arthur pleaded now. "She was my friend. I grew up with her."

"The gods are kind. I never get to see what happens next. It never goes that far. At this point, the dragon always rises. White as snow with an underbelly as red as blood, she rises and devours every thing in a great white flame."

"Is this your nightmare?" Ser Arthur asked after a brief pause. "The one that keeps you up at night."

"Aye," Jon responded. It was a half truth. There was one more, but he would not tell Ser Arthur that. How could you tell a man that you dreamed his demise. That you watched the knife rip through his flesh and watched the blood pour from his body while you were helpless. Just like before, the dragon would come at the end. Rising like the sun to end the nightmare, to drown the pain in flames.

"I could ask the maester to make you a potion," Ser Arthur suggested, "it could make your nights dreamless."

"No," Jon responded. It was hard, but he didn't want them to stop. "The Starks of old trusted their direwolves so much that they listened when their companions gave them signs of danger. I might not like the method, but the dragon is trying to tell me something."

"Have you figured it out?" Ser Arthur asked. Jon opened his eyes, staring at the purple, tear soaked, eyes of his mentor as he gave his answer. It wouldn't happen like that. He would find a way to save Arthur.

"I think so."

* * *

"You're Jon Snow," a quiet voice called out. He lifted his head from the pillow of leaves

to get a look at the face the voice emerged from. He had already returned Ghost to the kennels, broke his fast, and trained in the yard. When he finished, he found himself again in the godswood.

He had saw the same boy a couple of days before, riding next to Lord Beric as they rode into the courtyard when they arrived. The boy was wide-eyed then, staring directly at Ser Arthur the whole time.

They rode carrying the banner of the King, a King who was dead. Word had reached them some days ago that King Robert had died in a hunting accident. The same letter announcing his death was the same letter that crowned Joffrey Baratheon as King and demanded that Lord Tully come swear fealty to him. It also demanded that they release the Mountain, and hand over the men that captured him to be tried at court for arresting an innocent man and breaking the King's peace.

Another letter followed after, this time from his father, Lord Stark. His letter denounced the legitimacy of Queen Cersei's children, naming them bastards fathered by Jamie Lannister for all the realm to read. Apparently, in that same letter, his father told Lord Edmure Tully to stay put, to gather all his men at Riverrun, that Robb was on the way.

Edmure Tully ignored that part of the letter. Ser Arthur had practically begged him to reconsider, but instead he sent Lord Piper and Lord Vance to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth.

"They will be outnumbered and slaughtered," Ser Arthur had told him. He was right. If Tywin Lannister was gathering the might of the West and marching toward Rivverun, which all of their scouts and spies suggested that he was, then spreading out his forces was a bad idea.

"These are my lands," Edmure would repeat, putting the unnecessary emphasis on the word my. "You expect me to allow them to pillage my villages, and burn my crops while I sit back and do nothing?"

Villages could be rebuilt, fields could be resowed. People could not be replaced…. but he did not speak. To Edmure, he was still a bastard, a stain on his siser's marriage. He was starting to wonder why they were still here but Ser Arthur was adamant that they would not leave, at least not yet.

"Aye," Jon finally responded, sitting up to give the boy his full attention. He had pale blond hair, and what looked like purple eyes. He wore a purple cloak that was fastened with a brooch that was a large white star.

"I am looking for Ser Arthur," the boy said, his voice cracking a bit. "The men told me that you would know where to find him."

"What business do you have with Ser Arthur?" Jon questioned. Perhaps he was too harsh, the boy's face fell and he stared at the ground, playing with his thumbs.

"He's my uncle," he spoke with in a shy whisper. "I just want to meet him."

Jon's eyes widened, and he stood immediately. "Lord Dayne, my apologies I didn't realize that was you."

"We have never met," the boy responded, dismissing Jon's apology with a small smile.

"What are you doing here, in the Riverlands?"

"Lord Beric took me for his page when he was betrothed to my aunt," he responded politely. "I was seven, but when I turned ten he raised me to squire."

Jon smiled at him, "perhaps we can meet in the yard tomorrow, and you can show me what Lord Beric has taught you."

That seemed to startle him. "You were taught by my uncle."

"I was," Jon agreed, "but you are his blood."

Edric laughed nervously, "I was not blessed with the natural talent to wield the sword like some in my family are."

"Your Uncle taught me many lessons in life Lord Dayne. Hard work beats talent every time….. now come, let me take you to him."

* * *

They found them in the private audience chamber above the great hall. Jon suppressed a groan as they approached the wooden door. They were arguing again.

"You forget your place Ser Arthur," he could hear Edmure Tully spit, "I am the acting Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, I will decide how to lead my men into battle."

He heard Ser Arthur sigh. "You are right but at least allow me to go get help. Walder Frey has not answered your call yet. Let me take my men and see what is taking him so long. Hopefully by then Robb will have begun his march."

"Fine," Lord Edmure responded, his voice failing to hide the happiness of being rid of them.

"We will go with them," Lord Beric's voice game through. "Most of the men that make up my party fly Stark banners."

Jon chose that time to knock. It was Thoros of Myr who opened the door. He was a tall, fat man who wore red robes that flapped in the wind. He was bald, but his smooth face led to a white beard. Jon had saw the man when they first arrived and the man stared as him as fiercely as he had done earlier. It was odd and all knowing.

"Jon," Ser Arthur spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Jon smiled at him. "Your nephew is looking for you. Jon stepped inside, and then to the side to let the boy come through.

"Edric," Ser Arthur whispered. "My Lord, Beric just informed me that you were his squire. Had I known, I would have sought you out earlier."

Lord Edmure Tully spoke again before anyone could talk. "As cute as this small family reunion might be, I have a war to plan for. Can you do this elsewhere?"

Ser Arthur glared at him, but still nodded his head. "Of course Lord Tully, let us not be an interruption any longer. We will leave in the morning."

He turned to Edric, "Lord Dayne, if you will follow me to my room, I would love to meet with you."

* * *

He walked back toward the godswood, it was the quickest way to the kennel. He wanted to spend some more time with Ghost before the day was over, to tell him tomorrow he would be free. Perhaps he could even let him hunt the hunt rabbit that called the godswood of Riverrun their home.

He heard the footsteps following him, but it was obvious the person was not trying to be stealthy. Still, instincts took over and he reached for his sword. He expertly drew it from its sheath, and turned to face the man that would follow him. Intentional or not, no one liked to be followed.

"Peace Jon Snow, the Lord of Light has told me many things about you," the man spoke calmly, his red robes flowing with the wind. "I have seen them in my flames."

Jon turned, "you are the Myrish priest. The men call you the red wizard."

He snorted. "The pink pretender, rather. I am Thoros, late of Myr, aye… a bad preist and a worse wizard."

"Yet, you claim to know me from your flames. Which is it?"

"I may be a bad wizard, but R'hllor is not. He has told me many things about you Jon Snow," he stepped closer to him and Jon could smell the faint smell of ale on his breath. "The men call you the White Wolf of the North. I wonder what will happen when they find out that the White Wolf can fly?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Jon replied sharply, his heart starting to race. Thoros laughed.

"Of course you don't," he said when he was finished. "Not yet at least but you will soon my friend. Soon. It will be interested traveling with you. As Ser Arthur says, we leave in the morning. I would advise you to get your rest Jon Snow. You are going to need it."

He walked away slowly, humming a tune that Jon had never heard. Jon stared after him, worry etched deep in his bones. He would need to be careful around Thoros.

* * *

A/N: Hey you guys. How's it been? I feel like I have apologized for the wait over and over, but here I am again. Life is trash right now. I was supposed to get married yesterday, but with Corona going on and everything we had to postpone. Plus my job is considered essential, and with everything thats going on, I have spending eight hours stuck in my office at home working. I hate to say it, but it makes writing, and editing (I know I know, I suck at it) hard.

But it is what it is. Life is what it should be. I will continue to push forward thanks to your amazing support, and hopefully the next chapter, Arya, will soon come. Thanks again for all the love and support. See you soon!


	28. Arya II

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own GOT and only write for fun.

* * *

The outer walls of Winterfell loomed large in the distance, a blanket of summer snows covering them softly in white sheen, and if she squinted hard enough she could make out the tiny figures of the men stationed at the turrets. A warm feeling washed over her. She was home.

"This is the place you have been braggin' 'bout?" Gendry joked, but she ignored him. It was true she had bragged. They had been traveling everyday for a little over a moon. When they arrived at White Harbor, they were given fresh horses and an escort that was made up of Wendel Manderly and twenty knights of his house.

They road swiftly, but in their downtime, she spoke often to Gendry about Winterfell. About how the ground wasn't even so the covered bridge connected the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor or the rookery, about the crypt where they would pay respects to the kings of winter, and the courtyard where they would play.

Gendry, sometimes, had been easy to talk to. She still wasn't sure how she felt about him. Bad enough that her father had given orders that Syrio was to train him while they were on the ship. She didn't even have her teacher to herself anymore.

It wasn't all bad though. The sun didn't hide out at sea. It beat and lashed out at you as unforgivable as any harsh snow she have ever experienced. It was nice to share that burden with someone who didn't complain. At least Gendry wasn't rushing to a barrel to lose his stomach every five minutes like Septa Mordane. The sea disagreed with her.

Sansa told her that Gendry had to be important or father wouldn't have whisked him away from Kings Landing like he did. Gendry disagreed. " I'm a 'prentice smith, and one day might be I'll make a master armorer… if I don't run off and get myself killed."

Dark, but simple. She could do simple. She liked simple. Still, comments like the one he just made caused her to question whether she even liked him or not. She finally responded to him with a soft, "Aye,' that she wasn't even shore he heard. Nor did she care.

She remembered being a few years younger running from her brothers and falling right there, near a spot she could see in the distance by the large gatehouse. She could almost smell the grass, feel the snow tipped blades rub roughly against her skin, remember how the pain was drowned out by the laughter.

She urged her horse forward, suddenly, and it broke into a gallop. She could hear the guards begin to chase her, and was grateful when she heard her sister's soft voice call out for them to stop. She raced to a spot near the gatehouse where she knew that she could easily slip past all of the people that were waiting for them to return. Only Nymeria followed her now.

She remembered sitting on her father's knee, asking him the first thing he did when he returned home after the last war. She remembered him smiling down bright at her and telling her that his first stop was to see her, she just had been born. He took her to the godswood and prayed to thank the old gods for her health and safety.

It was hard thinking of her father. She couldn't help to think that he was in danger. Back in White Harbor Lord Wyman told Sansa and her that he had gotten word that her father had escaped the capital and had safely arrived in High Garden but that wasn't enough. Even roses had thorns. He should've been on the boat with them.

So now it was her turn to pray. She wasn't stupid. She saw the banners handing from the walls of her home. The silver fist on the scarlet shield, the black bear in the green wood, she even recognized the new one, the skill against a winter field. It was obvious that Robb called the banners. The North was preparing for war.

Her first stop home was going to be the godswood before anything but she didn't want to pray for anybody's safety. She wanted to help. So she would pray for something different. She would pray that she could find a way to help them. Jon was already fighting somewhere in the Riverlands and Robb was preparing to march to meet him. The pack survives. She wouldn't leave them alone.

It surprised her when she found someone else at the heart tree praying. The girl had long dark hair and it looked like a sword was sticking out from her lap. The spiked mace on her back gave her identity away, and she felt the need to call out to her, she hadn't seen her since they were younger, but her father's words echoed loudly in her head. It was rude to interrupt a person praying.

So instead she paused to listen, wondering what her friend was praying about. Knowing her it was probably something similar. Knowing Lyanna Mormont, she wouldn't like the fact that the rest of her family was off to fight while she had to stay behind. They were similar that way.

Sobs and sniffles interrupted her thoughts. Her friend was crying, which had to mean that something was wrong. Nothing bothered Lyanna. Nothing. She approached her quietly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Lyanna," she spoke as softly as she could, the concern growing as she saw the tears falling from her closed eyes. True, it had been long since they last saw each other, but the memories never could fade. The North remembers. It was in their blood.

"Arya," she responded, her eyes, red from crying, shooting open and her backhand quick to wipe away any tears. Gone was the ferocious she-bear that Arya remembered, replaced by a wounded cub. She even stood up to hug her, it was so odd but she hugged back. Her friend needed it.

"Why do we mourn?" she asked, trying her best to choose her words wisely.

"Uncle Jeor," she responded pointing to the sword. It was Longclaw. "We received word just this morning. Riders from the watch rode in carring a message that Uncle Jeor was dead."

Arya held her tighter. Her father had told stories of Jeor Mormont. He spoke highly of the man, of his honor, of his contributions to the North not only at Bear Island but also at the wall. His loss would be felt.

"Lyanna," she spoke softly again still holding on tightly. "The North remembers."

Her friend pulled back a little, "I know."

"His bones, have they been returned to Bear Island?" she asked. That was important. Her father had told them how outraged Lady Dustin had been that he had left the bones of her late husband down south when he returned home with his own sister. Her father had tried to make up for it by sending for them later, but whispers said that she never really forgave him for it. He had broken a northern tradition.

"Aye, they knew that your brother called the banners so they sent his bones to Bear Island and his sword here," she responded pointing to Longclaw. "I would have been there to meet you at the gates but given everything that has happened, your brother gave us leave."

"I didn't go to the gatehouse," Arya smiled. "You know I don't like the crowds, the people worshiping us because of our name."

"You Starks are always so humble," Lyanna responded a little bit of mirth breaking through the sadness. Arya smiled at her brightly again watching as her friend finally lifted her eyes from the grass and looked at her surroundings. She noticed Nymeria and pointed, "What is that?"

"My direwolf, Nymeria," Arya responded simply. Lyanna giggled.

"Your father let you have a direwolf?" she asked, curious. Arya nodded, and her giggle turned into a full blown laugh.

"Good," she said turning suddenly serious. "Now there is no way mother can deny me a cub."

Arya wrapped her arm around her friend and together they laughed loudly. It was good to be home.

* * *

They had kept her room the same, which naturally meant it was a mess. From the clothes that she had missed when she packed, to the cup that was thrown in the corner, it was like the servants were given orders not to touch a thing. She smiled, it must have been her mother.

They had gotten word in White Harbor about their mother as well. It was said that she was riding to Moat Cailin, where she could then carry on to Winterfell. If Arya's calculations were right, that meant that they would cross path as Robb lead the North south.

A soft knock on her door broke her thoughts. "Come in," she called out and the door burst open. It was Robb, he was smiling at her. She got up and ran into his embrace, happy to hug him again. She wouldn't give him a chance to say anything else, she had to try first. "I want to go with you. I could be your page or your squire, Syrio has taught me a lot and I've gotten good with a sword. I can fight. I don't want to leave or Jon or father alone out there. Father always says that the pack survives. Don't leave me here, please Robb promise!"

"Slow down Arya," Robb laughed at her. "You know Sansa was right."

"About what?"

"She told me that you would pester me with questions, begging me to take you with me. It's just who you are."

"Does that mean you will take me?" she asked, her hopes raising ever so slightly.

Robb sighed. "Mother would have my head."

"But mother isn't here, and father named you the acting Lord of Winterfell because he trust your judgment. Besides, if I were your page, that means you would have Nymeria, Grey Wind, and Lyarra to protect you and when we got to the Riverlands, Ghost will be there as well! Not even the Lannisters could stand up to the might of four direwolves. The pack survives!"

Robb frowned at her before he shook his head. "Arya, I can't let you go with me. If something happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself. You'll be safe here."

"What about what I want?" she asked, her anger starting to get the best of her. "If Bran wasn't hurt you would let him go."

He glared at her, matching her anger. "If Bran wasn't hurt he would have no choice but to stay here. Father is with the Tyrell's and Lord Renly and we don't know if we can trust them until he sends word. He could be there prisoner right now and we have no way of knowing it. Jon is already in the Riverlands, helping defend our grandfathers lands, and soon I will march to join him. If something happens to us, Bran would be the next in line. So you are wrong little sister. Healthy or sick, Bran would be stuck here in Winterfell just like you."

"I could protect you," she tried. She punched his arm when he laughed.

"Since when do little sister's protect big brothers?" he asked.

"When they're not stupid and let them!" she responded, her voice rising.

"Arya," Robb said sternly. "That is enough. You are not coming with me. End of story. Now get ready for the feast. It is important we show unity in front of the bannermen, especially now that the Mormonts have lost Jeor."

He didn't give her a chance to respond and walked out her door. To say she was angry would be an understatement but she didn't care what Robb said. She would find a way to be there. Find a way to fight, she just had to figure out a way. She couldn't go as herself, she knew that much, and Nymeria would have to hide in the woods so that she wouldn't be easily spotted. She could cut her hair real short so that she looked like a boy and that nobody would question her. She just had to find someone that would take her as a page or squire, that way there wouldn't be any questions.

She could ask Syrio, but she felt bad. He was supposed to be her teacher, not a solider but she had little doubts that once Robb saw him in the yard that he wouldn't ask him to join their cause. Syrio was very good with a sword.

But none of that mattered right now. She would figure out that later. Robb was right about one thing. They had to show unity and be strong for the Mormonts. For her friend Lyanna. She could figure out a way to join her brother later, right now she just needed to be a friend.

* * *

They sat at the great table at the head of the Great Hall. Robb sat in the Lord's chair, and next to him Lady Maege sat as his honored guest. Arya couldn't help but admire her. She thought she lost Bran and could barely do anything for weeks, yet here she was, a woman who just lost her own brother, and she sat in her seat regally and proud. She smiled and laughed but Syrio was right. The eyes told a different story.

Her eyes spoke of grief, of anger and loss. Nobody else at the feast knew that. She carried herself well. A warrior and a lady. Arya hoped that one day she could be like Lady Maege.

When the hall was as full as it was going to be, her brother had invited the North but most of the houses hadn't arrived yet and he told those house south of Winterfell to meet him at Moat Cailin, her brother rose and began to speak. The hall immediately quieted.

"When I was a young boy my father would bring me to his solar and tell me about the great houses of the North. He told me about the new houses like House Bones, made up of the free folk who had sworn loyalty so that they didn't have to live in fear. He told me of the old houses like Houses Glover, Bole, Branch, Forrester and Woods, who worked hard and diligently to rebuild our western fleet."

He paused then, looking down at Lady Maege with sadness in his eyes, "And then he told me a story about an old bear that was as loyal and honorable as ten men. He told me how he led his people to prosperity and defended them with everything he had when the Iron Born would raid. He told me that how when he felt his time was up at Bear Island, he refused to waste away into nothing, and instead volunteered himself to the Watch and rapidly rose through the ranks where he became the Lord Commander."

Arya watched in awe as her brother spoke. Robb turned back to the crowd. "Tonight, my friends is a bittersweet moment. It is true that my dear sisters have returned to me, but a great man has fallen. A great man whom, everyday, lived his life like any true northern man should. He lived without fear. He lived with honor. He lived with a respect and loyalty that he passed on to his people and family."

Robb continued. "When I called my banners, it was the Mormont's who were one of the first to respond. They boarded there ships and raced down our coast to make sure that they were among the first here to respond to there Lord. That unwavering sense of loyalty comes from one man, Jeor Mormont."

"I know many of you have questions as to why I have summoned you. You ask yourselves why you are here, you ask yourselves who is this summer child who thinks he can summon the banners to play at wall. I answer you today simply. The North remembers. It remembers the long night, where winter seemed like it would never end, and it felt like that the sun would never rise again. It remembers the ice blue eyes of those monter's who know nothing but destruction and murder. The North remembers that Winter is coming."

He paused again, Grey Wind at his heels surveying the room as if he was making sure everyone was paying attention. "Jeor Mormont remembered as well. Some of you are here directly because of Jeor Mormont. Lord Bones, my father may have given you your freedom but it was Lord Commander Mormont who gave your people the lands at the gift, it was Lord Commander Mormont who knew the histories of the North and was able to provide my father with a list of castles that had long been unoccupied so that the freefolk could build, and again, it was Lord Commander Mormont who punished anyone who attacked or treated any of you at the wall unjust."

"Lord Commander Mormont knew and understood something that we didn't at the time. We all are one people. We are the North. We are warriors and fighters that do nothing but survive and thrive in lands that no other people could. We are the first men. He knew that. He understood that. Thousands of years ago, our ancestors were under attack by an evil unheard of. They fought and banished that evil, but that evil has returned," he pointed to a trashing box that was chained to the table.

"Unchain it," he commanded. The members of the watch who had delivered the news and box rose quickly with torches in hand. Robb took Lady Maege's hand and pulled her behind her as he drew Ice and nodded. As soon as the men unchained the box, a pall hand broke free and started to flail around, looking for something to attack. The wolves howled, but before anybody could make a move, Robb swung Ice quickly, severing the hand in half and leaving it lifeless.

Robb looked around the room. "Winter is here. A man who knew it was coming, who fought to bring some of you to safety from it, a man who has protected the world from it died not long ago because two wights rose south of the wall and attacked him while he slept. I have called you here to fight. I have called you here because even though we as people are strong, we are not strong enough. It is time we interfered in the business of the south. It is time we united the rest of Westeros under one cause so that we can stop men from perishing. The others will not stop, they will not tire, all they want is destruction. We will need the South's help to fight this war, and there is no way that Joffery Lannister is the King who can lead us against these monsters."

"I ask that you help me. That you help the North. Soon other Northern houses will descend upon Winterfell asking the same questions you had, wondering why it is we fight. We fight because we must. We fight for survival. We fight because we remember… just like Lord Commander Jeor."

He turned around and picked up his glass before turning back to the room. "Tonight we celebrate a man who every single person in this room should strive to be like. A man who lived life with honor, loyalty and no regrets. Tonight, and forever more, the North remembers Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Soon we march to make sure he did not die in vain. For Jeor!"

The wolves howled and the great hall shook. Arya found herself standing, arm in arm with her friend Lyanna, pride in her eyes. They all rose then, some hooting and hollering, others quietly tipping there glasses and mugs as a sign of respect, but they all said one thing. It was the unity that Robb spoke of that they needed. "For Jeor!"

* * *

A/N: I could put an excuse here as to why this has taken so long, but I've got nothing. I've just been busy with other stuff and haven't had as much time writing as I used to. Yet, you all have stuck with me here, still liking, favoriting, sending me messages of encouragement, and I really appreciate it.

This chapter was from Arya's point of view. I always help the belief that even if she did somehow make it home, Arya wouldn't have been satisfied sitting safely at Winterfell while her brothers fought. I hoped to portray that here, as well as some leadership from Robb from someone else's point of view. Hope that I did a good job.

Let me know what you think! As always, I really appreciate it! Until next time!


	29. Margaery I

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Tales of the North were hard to come by. Let the realm tell it, and they would sing songs people who were devoted and loyal to their liege, a man who had brought riches and prosperity from the neck to the wall. The only reason her grandmother had the slightest idea of what actually was happening up there was due to the trade deal that Lord Stark struck with her father all those years ago.

With her grandmother's approval of course.

Other than that, information about the North was hard to come by. The wind didn't whisper about the North. There were no tales about a King who wanted a wolf as a good daughter, an ailing fish, or a sickly falcon babe whose legitimacy was in question. Instead the winds were quiet and cold. Almost as quiet and cold as Lord Stark himself, his face long and grim.

"I haven't seen those banners fly together since the siege of Storm's End," her father spoke the first day they had come riding into Highgarden, fear etched into his voice like paint on a canvas. Surprisingly her grandmother agreed.

"He has sunk his fangs into Lord Renly," her grandmother told her, "It will take time and effort on your part to loosen them. Lord Stark could present some problems, especially if he convinces Lord Renly that she should marry his own daughter."

Her grandmother was a wise woman, and after a few weeks into the negotiations, it had become very apparent that she was right.

"I agree that Renly should marry your daughter Mace," he said, only his dark grey eyes, hard as stone, were not looking at her father, but past him and at her grandmother, "but it should not be here, and it should not be now. Remember the last time a war was waged. At the end Robert married Cersei and that wedding was the pillar of peace that these lands stood upon all these years. Your daughter's marriage to Lord Renly in the Sept of Baelor would have the same effect."

It was funny because she had just heard Lord Stark tell the Greyjoy boy that everything before the word but didn't count. She hard time believing that the words he spoke afterword meant anything either but he was unyielding. Lord Stark had proven to be a thorn in the side of her grandmother's plans and Renly seemed to agree with every word he said. What was worst was that Loras, blinded by his love for Renly seemed to agree. The only Tyrell that could get close enough to try to change his mind refused.

"I trust Lord Stark," Renly spoke. "My brother told stories about his leadership. He often said that if it wasn't for Ned Stark, that they would have lost the Battle of the Trident. He knows that Stannis would be a terrible King, and has agreed help make sure that I am King with the beautiful Queen Margaery at my side."

"That does not mean we wouldn't celebrate," Lord Stark quickly added. "I suggest that we hold a tourney at Bitterbridge to celebrate the betrothal of Lord Renly and Lady Margaery. That way, the Lords from the Reach and Stormlands can all gather at one place not only to celebrate their future King and King and Queen, but so they can prepare for war."

"What of the North," her grandmother spoke, "What of the Riverlands and the Vale."

"The Vale is lost for now," Lord Stark responded. "I'm afraid my good sister has lost her wits after the tragic loss of her husband. She only worries for the safety of my nephew and nothing else. The Riverlands are tricky. Even now reports come in that Jamie Lannister is marching near twenty-thousand men toward the Golden Gate, meanwhile Lord Tywin has another host just a big ready to march as well. The Riverlands will need to be freed before they could help us do anything."

"You expect us to help you free the Riverlands and then march to King's Landing to take the city? We have enough men to march straight to King's Landing and take the city without the Riverlord," her father spoke.

"No," Ned responded simply. "While you may have the numbers Lord Tyrell, those numbers will take a long time to gather. By the time we could gather your men, the Riverlands would fall. Your part in this war will not be to free the Riverlands. This war started when my wife took Tyrion Lannister as hostage. It is only right that my people finish it. My sons will free the Riverlands and take the west. When they do, we will walk into King's Landing unopposed and crown Renly King."

"You place that much faith in green boys?" her father scoffed.

Lord Stark smirked and his words turned as hard as his eyes. "They will sing songs about my sons. Even here in this castle maids will sing about the boys who ride direwolves into battle to slay their enemies. They will tell horror stories to their children so that they will obey them about how those boys turned into direwolves themselves and destroyed the west with their bare hands and teeth. Winter comes for House Lannister Lord Tyrell, and make no mistake about it, in the North we don't play at war, we actually do it."

Her father didn't realize he was being insulted, but the sour look on Garlan's face told her that her brother understood exactly what Lord Stark had just said. Willas nor her grandmother looked very pleased either.

Lord Renly reached his hand out and grabbed Lord Stark's shoulder, pulling him back a little.

"I digress," Lord Stark said, clearing his voice, "either way, the best path forward is to win this war, and then worry about the marriage, or do you worry that Lord Renly is not a man of his word?"

"We will discuss it," her grandmother spoke up before her father could speak. Later that night, her grandmother gave Margaery her orders. Loosen the fangs. It proved to be impossible. Lord Stark did not let Renly go anywhere alone. It was like he was his personal guard, who was flanked by his own personal guard. Speaking to Renly alone so that she could try to charm him was impossible.

She tried to do it again, when she broke her fast that morning, but again Lord Stark was stuck to his side, almost like he knew the danger of him being alone. She decided that she take a walk in the gardens to relax her mind.

She didn't expect Lord Stark to be there, waiting for her. He smiled at her warmly, gone was the cold face of the north and the malice that he spoke to her father with. Instead his voice was soft, " I didn't expect you to be here, but I am glad that you are."

She didn't know what to expect from Lord Stark but this wasn't it. The court of King's Landing told stories of a man who didn't enjoy playing what he called southern games with words. They said he perferred to be straight forward and to the point. Yer here they were, and he was not only playing the game, he was doing it quite well.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well Lord Stark," she responded.

"May I escort you through the garden? I'm sure your father wouldn't like it if he knew you were out here alone."

"Do you allow your daughters to walk freely in Winterfell?" she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

He smiled widely at her, "Winterfell is not Highgarden."

"Yes your people would never dare to hurt your daughters, but you suspect my people would dare to hurt me?"

His smile turned into a frown, "forgive me Lady Margaery for that is not what I meant. It's just my daughters have direwolves to protect them. Direwolves are of the North. That is all."

"So you truly believe that maids will sing songs about your sons riding their wolves into battle," she asked another question.

"I don't think Ghost nor Greywind would enjoy that," he laughed, his smile returning, "but yes they will. Whether the small folk believe it or not is up to them, but give it time Lady Margaery, and you yourself will hear those songs."

"I admire the confidence you have in your children," she responded truthfully. "I would love to have that same trust in my own children one day."

"Is that why you rush to marry Renly?" Lord Stark asked, "to have children of your own?"

"I do want a large family," she responded easily, "but no that is not the only reason."

"Aye," he responded his northern accent highlighted by his choice of words. "Marriage is a funny thing. Let me tell you a story about marriage. I once almost married Ashra Dayne. We were in love at Harrenhall, and I wanted to take her to the godswood and marry her immediately. She refused."

"If you were in love, why did she say no?"

"She wouldn't do it without her father's blessing, not that it matters now…. But imagine if she said yes? Imagine if she would have married me, that night in the godswood? What could have happened?"

Margaery had never felt so lost in her life. She had the slightest clue where he was going with the tale he was spinning. "I'm not sure Lord Stark."

"What do you know about Robert's Rebellion?" Lord Stark asked.

"Only what the Maester has taught me," she responded and Lord Stark nodded, telling her to continue. "He said that Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped your sister, and that your brother rode into King's Landing to duel him for it, that your father chased his son and that they were killed for it. Afterwards, King Aerys called for your and Roberts heads, but instead Jon Aaryn raised his banners against him, and the rest is history."

"That's not a bad retelling, but between you and me, I'm not sure Rhaegar kidnapped anything. If you would of known my sister, you would have known that one could not just kidnap Lyanna Stark," he laughed sadly, his face twisted into a frown, "but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Brandon believed she was kidnapped, father believed it, and so did I."

He paused a moment. "The important part to note however, is that Brandon was betrothed. He was to marry Catelyn Tully, and after the Mad King killed him that responsibility fell to me. The Riverlands wouldn't have fought for us without that marriage."

"Oh," she said. She finally knew where he was going with this.

"Now imagine if I would have married Ashra," Ned said. "There was no way that Hoster Tully would have fought for us. He might have even demanded me to set her aside and marry his daughter instead. My honor wouldn't have allowed me to do it. We would have lost the Riverlands and history might have changed. Hells, instead of talking about marrying Renly, you could have been in discussions to marry Aegon right now."

"Aegon Targaryen?" she questioned and he nodded.

"You never know. Maybe something terrible would have happened to Aegon, they say that Elia Martell wasn't a picture of perfect health, maybe her son Aegon was the same, maybe you would have ended up marrying his brother instead, just like my own wife."

"Aegon didn't have a brother Lord Stark," she responded.

"My apologies," he responded again, his smile returning. "History wasn't really something I paid attention to with my own Maester. I'm so forgetful sometimes. My Old Nan, she often told so many tales of giant ice spiders and white walkers that it was hard to separate fiction from reality as a child."

By then, they had reached the castle doors that led to the garden. "It was nice walking with you Lady Margaery," Lord Stark said as he bowed to her. "I must find Lord Renly, I'm sure he grows tired of Theon and Jory. Tell your grandmother something for me will you?"

"Of course," she responded.

"The North remembers….. and we will remember how much the trade with the Reach has helped us prepare for Winter for it is coming."

She had the slightest of clue what that could have meant or what Lord Stark was talking about, but one thing was certain, she had to speak with her grandmother and fast. Lord Stark was not the person they thought he was.

* * *

A/N: No excuses guys, I'll try to upload faster and stick to an actual schedule. I wanted to take a break from Winterfell with this one and I hope I have portrayed Margaery well. Next is obviously back to Wintefell with a Sansa chapter, although I am toying with the possibility of going with multiple povs in the next chapter, and future chapters to follow.

Until then, once again thanks to all the reviews, favorites and likes. I really appreciate it.


	30. Brann III

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Bran

The Karstarks came in on a cold windy morning, bringing six hundred horsemen and near four thousand foot from their castle at Karhold. A man went before them, pounding out a slow, deep-throated marching rhythm on a drum that was bigger than he was, it was an old northern sound and it seemed to touch him to his very soul.

Bran watched them come from a guard turret atop the outer wall, peering through the Maester Luwin's telescope while perched on Hodor's shoulders like a raven. Lord Ricakrd himself led them, his sons Harrison and Eddard and Torrhen riding beside him. He had meant them all once during a celebration of Robb's twelth name day, and they hadn't changed much.

They were the last, he knew. The other lords were already there, well those who came from the north that was. Everybody south of Winterfell was given orders just to meet them at Moat Cailin. Bran yearned to ride out among them, to see the houses of winter, full of bursting life, each alike but oh so different in their own way.

Unfortunately Robb had forbidden him to leave the castle. "We have no men to spare to guard you," his brother had explained.

"I'll take Winter," Bran argued, "and I'm sure Lyarra won't mind stretching her legs."

"Don't act the boy with me, Bran," Robb said. "You know better than that. Only two days ago one of Domeric's men knifed one of Lord Cerwyn's at the Smoking Log. Our Lady mother would skin me for a pelt to keep her warm if I let you put yourself at risk."

"You only say that because I got hurt," he yelled at him. "Arya leaves the castle all the time and does what she wants. I don't hear you chastising her for chasing those stupid cats around. I don't hear you yelling at her and telling her to stay put."

"Bran," Robb warned, using the voice of Robb the Lord and not Robb his brother when he said it. He was done arguing, and soon his brother would rise and walk away.

A year ago, before he fell off that stupid horse, he would have visited the town even if it meant climbing over the walls by himself. He would have went chasing after Arya with his wooden sword, good enough to knock any boy who dared to challenge him in the dirt. Now he could only watch, peering through Maester Luwin's tube.

He could feel his legs tingling.

Luckily for Bran, the Maester had taught him all the banners. He knew most of the traditional ones. It was the new ones that intrigued him. He didn't really understand how his father had gotten all those people from North of the Wall to swear loyalty to him, but those who did got houses and castled of there own and both Robb and Bran were presently surprised when some of them answered his call.

"How many is it now?" Bran asked Maester Luwin as Lord Karstark and his sons rode through the gates in the outer wall.

"Twenty thousand men, or near enough as makes no matter. Your uncle Benjen commands another ten thousand at Moat Cailin, and another ten thousand should join them from south of Winterfell."

"Forty thousand men?" Bran asked, the number seeming so large, especially as he looked over the wall at what felt like nearly endless tents and camps.

"Yes," Maester Luwin says. "The job your father has done in repopulating and adding to the North over these many years will be the stuff that your great, great, great, great grand children will read in history books. He rode south with 10,000 men during Robert's Rebellion. Due to your father, your brother will ride with three times that much. Let us pray that he brings that many home."

Bran nodded thoughtfully. "Lord Karstark is the last. Robb will feast him tonight."

"No doubt he will."

"Can he afford to?" Bran asked. "He just feasted Sansa for her name day and the other major Lords."

"Again, it just proves how great your father actually is," Maester Luwin responded. "Had this been 283 when I arrived in Winterfell, the answer would have been a resounding no. The North was a different place back then, before the rebellion… but now we trade and actually have people working the lands and trade to support it. A moon ago a shipment from the reach arrived with food that was immediatley put into overflowing stores. We have enough food for ten winters if needed, and if the trade stays good we will have enough for even more."

"My father was able to accomplish all of that," Bran asked in awe.

"I think your father is the first Stark in a long time to take your house words seriously," Maester Luwin responded, "so he has prepared for it. Winter is coming."

There was that phrase again. His father always said it, but most of the time Bran didn't quite know what it meant. It sounded as if he father made all of these changes in case of a long winter. Could winter really be that bad? He shook his head. He really didn't know. He was a "sweet summer child" according to his mother.

"How long before they go?" Bran asked to break up the uncomfortable silence that passed.

"He must march soon, or not at all," Maester Luwin said. "The fighting has begun in the riverlands, and your brother has many leagues to go."

"I know," Bran responded sadly, handing the bronze tube back to Luwin. "I don't want to watch anymore. Hodor, take me back to the keep."

"Hodor," said Hodor.

"Bran, your lord brother will not have time to see you now. He must greet Lord Karstark, and his sons and make them welcome. Sansa will be with him as well. You must not bother them at this time."

"I won't trouble them. I want to visit the godswood," he put his hand on Hodor's shoulder.

As they passed through the gatehouse portcullis, Bran put two fingers into his mouth and whistled. Winter came sprinting across the yard, scaring all the horses that caught the wolve's scent. Bran didn't worry about it much, they would quiet when Winter was gone.

The godswood had become his safe space. It was an island of peace in the sea of chaos that Winterfell had become. Each day, Hodor made his way through the dense oak and ironwood trees to the still pool beside the heart tree where he would place the seat that Bran sat in.

Bran would then take a nearby fallen branch and plant it firmly in the ground before he tried to lift himself up, praying to the gods that the branch would support his weight so that he could attempt to walk again. So far, he had been able to move three steps before collapsing, tired while the gods watched.

It had been a slow and painful process, but he would not give up. After Robb and Jon and his father had won the war they would come riding into Winterfell victorious, and he would give them the greatest gift he could think of. He would rise, slowly from his prison and walk again. He just knew it.

For now, he settle for resting on the smooth stone beside the black pool. He always would pray. Always.

Even the heart tree no longer scared him the way it used to. The gods were looking over him, he told himself, they had already proven it.

Before he would come sit on this stone and plead for them to make it so Robb won't go away. "Please make him stay," he would beg. "Or if he has to go, bring him home safe, with Mother and Father and the girls."

He smiled at the memory, so clear in his mind. His baby brother had been wild as a winter storm once he learned that Robb was riding off to war, switching between extreme anger and sadness. He refused to eat, and cried and scream for most of the night. Even worse, Shaggydog was just as wild, just as hurt. Their father told them that the behavior of the wolf would reflect the behavior of trainer, and it had been proven correct, time and time again.

But when Sansa came riding through the gates it all changed. She had quickly straightened Rickon out and now his baby brother and her wolf were stuck to her. They went were she went, ate when she ate, and slept when she told them too. The entire castle was singing her praises. The two ladies had come home to tame the wild ones. Lyarra helped too. Robb was going to have her stay here to keep Shaggydog in check before Sansa came home. Now she would be going south with him.

Arya said that Sansa only volunteered to take care of Rickon so willingly so that she could use it as an excuse to avoid Domeric Bolton. Bran had laughed at that. It was probably a half truth, but then again Sansa reminded him so much of mother that it caused him to doubt Arya's words. But just a little, Sansa did avoid Domeric like a plague.

He was married now, to Wynafryd Manderly. The two were a nice enough couple, but Bran had always thought that despite the age gap, he and Sansa would end up together, but it wasn't meant to be. When he asked Robb and Maester Luwin about the marriage, they both had given him different versions of the same thing; Domeric was the last male of the Bolton line. He could not afford to wait any longer. It was his job to reproduce to replenish the Bolton line.

Arya acted weirder than normal. She told Bran that she was trying to become a shadow and could be found chasing cats through Winterfell most days. Sansa had said that her dancing master from King's Landing had come North with them, and that he was teaching her, but he didn't really understand. How could she learn to dance by chasing cats?

Nymeria had easily replaced Shaggydog as the most feared wolf in Winterfell. Everyone knew that Grey Wind listened to Robb's command without question while Winter was the same for him. Shaggydog was wild until Sansa and Lady came home, and Lyarra took turns obsessing over them all. She reminded him so much of his mother.

But Nymeria, well Nymeria was like Arya. She had a habbit of popping up out of nowhere, stealing food out the hands of bannermen who least expected it, causing quite a few accidents from loud and boisterous men who claimed to be brave. It was like she was chasing her own version of a cat. He personally found it funny how many bannermen had to change there breaches during the middle of supper. Some had even chosen to sleep in tents outside the castle with their men instead of staying inside of it.

Robb was a stranger to Bran now, he had transformed into his father, a lord in truth, though he had not seen his sixteenth name day. Even their father's bannermen seemed to sense it. They all tried to test him, each in their own little way but Robb handled each of them with cool courtesy, much as father might have, and somehow he bent them to his will. Bran suspected that Sansa at his side, helping him had much to do with it.

When Lord Umber, who was even bigger than Hodor, threatened to take his forces home if he was placed behind the Hornwoods or the Cerwyns in the order of march, Robb cooly told him he was welcome to do so.

"And when we have united the realm to destroy the others like our ancestors before us," he promised, he voice as hard as Ice while he casually stroked Grey Wind behind the ear, "I will make it my personal mission to march to your castle, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker. Let it be known from that day forth that the Umber's refused to fight for the saftey and well being of the North. You know why we fight. My father proved that Winter is coming to you when he let our free folk brethren south of the wall. March your men home now, and I will make sure that the North remembers."

Cursing, the Greatjon flug a flagon of ale into the fire and bellowed that Robb was so green he must piss grass. Even Bran couldn't help but laugh at that. When Halllis Mollen moved to restrain him, he knocked him to the floor, and unsheathed a greatsword, even bigger than Ice. All at once, the men that had come with him had leaped to their feet and raised there swords.

Yet Robb only tilted his head and smirked confidently at him. He nodded his head, and in a snarl and the blink of an eye Lord Umber was on his back, his sword spinning on the floor and his hand dripping in blood. His sons and men did not fare any better. Lyarra had pinned two of them her self, while Nymeria descended from the shadows and unarmed another. Winter and Shaggydog stood in front of Rickon and himself, their hackles raised, ready to attack anyone that dared come near them.

Even Lady, who had sat at Robb's right with Sansa in a position of power had dropped her lady-like mask and was circling the Greatjon growling lowly, daring for him to try to throw he brother off of him.

"My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord," Robb said casually while the room watched, "but doubtless you only meant to cut my meat."

Bran watched as the Greatjon attempted to rise, only to have Lady snap her teeth at him, coming even so dangerously to his face.

"Lady," Sansa called out quietly, seemingly as calm as Robb was. "That is enough."

It was a simple command, but effective. His sister's direwolf returned to her side as quickly as she had left, rumbling softly in pleasure and she scratched her ears again. After Robb nodded again, Grey Wind, Lyarra and Nymeria let the men go and Winter calmed in front of him. Shaggydog, however could sense Rickon's fear, and it took Lyarra to calm him.

"Does anyone else have any questions about the march order?" Robb asked and none of them dared answer. They stopped trying to test him after that. Even the Greatjon himself had thought it funny. After that night, he had become Robb's right hand, his staunchest champion next to Domeric. Domeric had grew up here, his loyalty to Robb was never in question.

He shook his head to break his thoughts and get back to the reason he had come here in the first place. He wanted to pray. He turned toward the ancient weirwood and let his tongue unravel, "I know Robb has to go, but please watch over him. Watch over his men, Hal and Quent and the rest, and Lord Umber, and Domeric and Lady Mormon, and the other lords. And Father. Jon. Ser Arthur. Even Theon," he begged. "Watch them, and keep them safe, if it pleases you, gods. Help them defeat the Lannisters and unite the realm to face Winter. Bring them home."

A faint wind went whistling through the godswood, and the red leaves stirred breaking him from his thoughts. Winter barred his teeth. "You hear them, boy?" a familiar voice asked.

Bran lifted his head. Osha stood across the pool, beneath an ancient oak, her face shadowed by leaves. Winter circled the pool and sniffed at her. The tall woman smiled down at his wolf, and scratched behind his ears. Winter had liked Osha. Bran had liked her too.

"I think I do," Bran responded, although he wasn't quite sure. "Tell me, what should I hear?"

Osha studied him for a moment, staring at him intently before answering, "last time we spoke, you told me you asked the gods for your sisters. A fortnight later them rode through these gates unscratched physically, though a small bit weary from their travels. The gods listened to you then did they not? They answered you, open your ears, listen and you'll hear."

Bran paused a moment, even stopping his breathing to listen. "It's only the wind," he said after a moment, confused by her words.

She laughed, "Who do you think sends the wind, if not the gods young lord?" She seated herself across the pool from him. "They see you, Bran. They hear you talking. That rustling you hear? The faint blowing of the winds? That is them talking back. Listen."

He listened again, trying harder to understand. The faint sound of the grass whistling. The hard pattern of the leaves crashing against the different woods, each making their own distinct sound. Bran frowned. "It sounds like a sad song."

She smiled sadly at him. "I think so. I think they are sad. I think that you Starks, you have always held favor with the gods. From your ancestor, Bran the Builder, to your father, the gods haven given the Starks gifts but your brothers, your father they can only get so much help from them south of the neck. The weirwoods there were all cut down, thousands of years ago. How much help can they give them when they have no eyes?"

Bran frowned even deeper. It scared him. If even the gods could not help his family south of the neck, what hope was there? Maybe Osha wasn't hearing them right. He cocked his head, and tried to listen again. The leaves picked up, and the wind grew rapid. Hope. It sounded like hope.

"Although," Osha said after pausing and again she smiled at him. "Your father has always been a very odd man to me, to those of us that study the old gods. Your brothers, your father, their men… they will be alright. The gods will see through him."

The rustling grew louder, and Bran's heart thumped with excitement. He could feel the hope drumming with the leaves against the padded ground like a drum, he could feel the grass whistling sweet melodies of victory, as the sound picked up, faster and faster until..."Hodor!"

He came blundering out of the trees, naked and smiling.

Bran's face fell. It wasn't the gods, it was just Hodor. He couldn't stop the sadness from returning to his voice. "He must have heard our voices. Hodor you forgot your clothes."

"Hodor," the giant agreed.

"Now there is man," Osha laughed prettily, staring unashamed at Hodor's swinging manhood. "He must have giant's blood in him, or I am the queen."

Two days later, as a red dawn broke across the sky, Bran found himself in the yard beneath the gatehouse, looking at Robb who was smiling at them all.

"You are the Lord in Winterfell now," Robb told him. "Sansa will be your regent. Listen to her. Father told her that while we were gone that she was to be in charge. Take her advise, our sister will not lead you astray."

Bran nodded firmly. It was better that way. He wouldn't have to make any big decisions on his home, and he trusted Sansa to make them for him.

"Arya," he called out next. "I know you wish to come with me. To watch my back, to protect me but I will have Jon, and Grey Wind, and Lyarra and Ghost. Father will even join us soon. I have all the protection I need."

Arya started to raise her voice, to protest but Robb interrupted her smoothly, "but Sansa doesn't. Neither does Bran or Rickon. Use what you have learned to protect your sister and other brothers, for they have no one here as fierce as you to guard them."

Arya's eyes watered, and she nodded before quickly rushing to hug him fiercely. "I'll try."Robb held her closely and whispered quietly in her ear. "That is all I can ask."

He grabbed Sansa next. He hugged her just as tight and whispered something in her ear as well, only this time Bran couldn't hear it. He then kneeled next to Rickon and rubbed his head playfully. "Soon, little brother, I'll come marching through these gates with mother and father and Jon at my side. The first thing we will want is to see how strong you have grown and how smart you have gotten. Promise to listen to Sansa and pay attention to Maester Luwin and Syrio?"

"I promise," Rickon said, sounding brave even as his lip trembled and tears threatened to leave his eyes.

"And I promise you baby brother," Robb responded. "I will bring them home, all of them."

"On the old gods and new?" Rickon responded, his voice trembling as he tried to hold it all in.

"Aye," Robb responded with a smile. He swung his legs over his horse then, turning the give one last wave. He wheeled his courser around and trotted away. Grey Wind and Lyarr followed, lopping beside the warhorse, both lean and swift. Hallis Mollen went before them through the gate, carrying rippling banner of House Stark atop a high standard of grey ash. Domeric Bolton and the Greatjon fell in on either side of Robb, and their knights formed up in a double column behind them, steel tipped lances glinting in the sun,

Beyond the castle walls, a roar of sound went up. The foot soilders and townsfolk were cheering Robb as he rode past, cheering for Lord Stark, for the Lord of Winterfell on his great stallion with his cloak streaming and two symbols of his house racing beside him.

For a moment all was silent. Comfortably, he remembered Osha's words. _"__Your father has always been a very odd man to me, to those of us that study the old gods. Your brothers, your father, their men… they will be alright. The gods will see through hi__m_."

Suddenly the wind picked up. The leaves began to rustle, and the grass began to whistle again, a hopeful melody. He could hear the pounding of the hooves of the horses in the distance, and Winter stepped in front of him and let out a great, long howl. Lady, Nymeria, and Shaggydog copied him. In the distance he could hear Grey Wind and Lyarra too.

It was a Northern song. A song of sadness, and loss but the end… the ending was that of great victory, of hope. Osha was right. The gods did not only speak through trees, the wind, and grass but they spoke through animals, and people too. They would singing to him now. They had listened.

Bran looked up. High above the gates, sitting on top of them was a three-eyed raven. It was strange, and he had to look again to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The raven looked at him, nodded and smiled, before taking flight, racing off into the sky.

"Hodor," his giant friend said, confusion in his voice. He must have seen it too.

"Hodor," Bran agreed, wondering what it meant.

* * *

A/N: I promised to update faster, so here it is. I know I have a habit of saying the next chapter will be from xxx character pov, and then changing it on you guys and I do apologize, but I felt like Bran was more necessary here to kind of expand on his arc and note the similarities and obvious differences between this a cannon from his POV. Next chapter is 100% from Catelyn's POV though. I can promise that.

As always, tell me what you think. I really do appreciate it. I never imagined that his story would get the response it has gotten and I appreciate it all so again, thank you.

Until next time!


	31. Catelyn IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Catelyn

The banners in were too far in the distance to make out clearly, except one. Even through the drifting fog she could see the grey direwolf of House Stark flew higher then them all. She frowned. Robb shouldn't be here. He should be at Winterfell, at home, safe. With everyday that passed, she was starting to question Ned's decision making more and more.

"They await us, my lady," Ser Wylis Manderly interrupted her thoughts, "as my lord father swore they would."

"Let us not keep them waiting any longer, ser," Ser Brynden Tully responded. "Night will come quickly."He urged his horse toward the banner, but it would be terrible for Catelyn not to call out, to warn him.

"Be careful Uncle," Catelyn told him as her horse easily caught up," giants walk among us." She ignored the confused look that formed on his grizzled face and focused on the path forward. Like all men, he would need to see it to believe it.

Ser Wylis followed, leading his father's forces, toward The Moat. Lord Wyman had remained behind to see to the defenses of White Harbor and the eastern coast, all while corresponding with Lady Dustin and making sure she did the same in the west.

She was pleased that he son had sent scouts out, even to the east. The Lannisters would come from the south when they came, but it was good that Robb was being so careful. It would help keep him alive.

Still, she found it hard to believe that her son was leading a host to war, especially knowing that Ned was safe in Highgarden. He could have easily taken a ship from Oldtown to Salt Harbor and led this war himself. It was perplexing and frustrating that he chose to stay with Lord Renly. "He should be here," she thought, a frown always forming at the thought.

The scouts had spotted the Manderly banners, and led them to a spot of high ground dry enough for a camp. Ser Wylis called a halt there and remained with his men to see that the camp was well attended to.

Just beyond, through the mist, she glimpsed the tall moss covered curtain wall of Moat Caitlin and smiled. It looked ferocious in the distance, the outer wall stood even taller than that of Winterfell's own, looking as unyielding as the legends made it out to be. As long as Moat Cailin stood, she knew her family would be safe from any attack that the Lannister's could try.

"Gods have mercy," Ser Brynden excalimed when he saw what lay before them. "This is Moat Cailin?"

"I felt the same when I first saw it finished. It is the best keep that has stood in this realm ever," she told him, eager to explain just what he husband and good-brother had done. "It'the most brutal yet vicious castle that has ever stood. There is nothing that can take it, nothing. It is Harrenhall before the Dragons burned it. It is the Rock in which the Lannister's stand and roar from. It is cut from that same stone but better. My son will take the Rock. Nobody can take The Moat, ever."

"You are confident of this my neice?" Ser Tully asked, though there was little in his voice that suggested he doubted his words.

"There is nothing like it," she repeated. "Nothing that can match it. The bogs will eat the hearts of men before they even reached the castlle. Then, they would have to cross a moat, wide as a river, full of lizard lions and snakes, and whatever other creature those waters hold. If even a quarter of your men made it, they would have the scale a moss covered wall, as high as the tallest giant himself before they got in. Men wouldn't even need to waste there time manning the towers. By the time your army arrived, they would be tired, broken, destroyed. The army inside would play with them like children play with vegetables when they don't wish to eat."

"That is the second time you have mentioned myths and legends," her uncle responded, still looking forward in awe at The Moat.

She smiled weakly at him, "when we ride through the gates, do not stare. It is rude and the do not like it." He opened his mouth to question her again before she shook her head to hush him, "you will see."

When they rode through the gates, she heard her uncle's breath catch. She was too much of a lady to laugh openly at him, but she smiled widely nevertheless. Standing almost as tall as the outer walls themselves were two giants easily moving large wagons with crates of supplies from one side of the courtyard through the other."

She looked at him unexpectedly and warmly smiled, "why do you think the gates are so large?"

They didn't linger long, again it was rude, and after they found the stables to leave their horses, she had a servant quickly lead them toward the rebuilt stone keep where she knew her son to be Behind the great hall of Moat Cailin was a war room with a large round table. She found him surrounded by his father's lord bannermen, and standing next to his Uncle Benjen, going over maps and papers, talking internly with Domeric Bolton and the Greatjon.

He did not notice her at first, and she was too bust staring at him to even notice what they were saying, but Lyarra did. She was lying next to the fire with Grey Wind and when Catelyn entered the room, she lifted her head and quickly crossed the room to meet her. Again she heard her uncle's breath catch. She had forgotten to warn him of the wolves, so she couldn't blame him, Lyarra was as large as a horse. Grey Wind would be bigger.

Catelyn knew that she would never bound with Lyarra like the other wolves had done with her children, but she also knew that they spoke the same language. They respected each other as they were both mothers, and only wanted one thing; the safety of their children.

"Mother," Robb spoke, his voice thick with emotion. It was deeper than she remembered. She wanted to run to him, to kiss his brow, and wrap her arms around him tightly as she did when he was a boy who had fell and bruised his knee. She held a small smile for the memory. He didn't like it then, and he wouldn't like it now. He was no longer her boy. He was the Lord of Winterfell for now.

Grey Wind rose then, and was even quicker than his mother to get to her. He licked her hand and playful nipped at it before he sat on the other side of his mother, all looking intently at Robb. "You have grown a beard," she smiled, her hands automatically filling themselves with ears.

"Aye," he repsonded, his hand shooting to his jaw, rubbing it awkwardly. His northern accent was stronger than ever. He may have looked like Edmure, but in this moment, Catelyn had zero doubts that the Stark blood coursed through his veins like water to a river.

"I had not looked to see you here mother," Robb said after a moment of silence had passed between them. "When we received word that a ship with Stark banners grew closer to White Harbor we thought that you would immediately return home to be with Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon."

"I had meant to ride straight for Winterfell," she responded. "I was shocked to learn that your sisters had returned home. I received word on the road that King Robert had died and your father escaped but nothing of your sisters. I assumed he had taken them with him to Highgarden. Lord Manderly told me different, he told me he sent a escort to bring them home himself. I had strong desires to leave that night… but then he told me you raised the banners, that you would be here so I came."

She turned to her uncle, remembering her courtesies and introducing him, "This is my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who has left my sister's service for mine."

"The Blackfish," Robb said, he voice laced with respect. "It is an honor ser, thank you for joining else. We could always need men of your courage. Is Ser Rodrik with you as well, Mother? I've missed him."

"Ser Rodrik is on his way north from White Harbor. I have named him castellan and commanded him to hold Winterfell till our return. Maester Luwin is a wise councilor, but unskilled in the art of war."

"I understand that mother," Robb responded politely, "but we could have used him here more. Even if somehow the Lannisters did defeat us south of the Moat, they would never make it North of it to harm Winterfell, we could have used his skills here, especially sense it has been a while since I've heard from Ser Arthur or Jon."

"My brother wrote me a letter while I was with my sister," Catelyn said. "He says the small folk in Riverrun speak of the Sword of the Morning and The White Wolf who saved my father's people from pillage and death as if they were gods. They said he captured the Mountain…." she paused, staring intently at her son. Robb nodded. "Surely if that is true, they are still with my brother, helping him defend the Riverlands?"

Robb shook his head before frowning. "The last I heard from my brother they had left Riverrun. Ser Arthur didn't agree with Uncle Edmure's plan to defend the Riverlands, so Arthur asked him to leave that he could gather more men. They were heading the Twins last I heard. Lord Frey still has not answered his liege's call."

"Untrustworthy, the lot of them," Greatjon spat, his voice rumbling with disgust. "Don't you worry on that count, Lady Stark. If needs be, we will shove our swords as far up Lord Walder Frey's ass as we will Twyin Lannister's, and then we will march to the Red Keep to warn the realm. Ned Stark is always right. Winter is Coming."

She nodded gratefully at the large man, answering his confident boast with a warm smile.

"My Lady, a question, as it please you." Domeric Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, spoke up shyly. She smiled at him as well. It wasn't too long ago that he was a boy himself, running around Winterfell getting in just as much trouble as the rest of the boys, but still managing to find time to recite poems to Sansa. She would not lie, she felt sadness when she learned he had married Wynafred Manderly. She always held out hope that he would be her good-son but she understood it. He was the last of his name and desperately needed an heir.

"Of course Lord Bolton," she repsonded, "but first I do believe that congratulations are in order. Lord Manderly would not stop speaking about the wedding to his granddaughter. May you both be blessed for many years to come. You and your wife will always be welcome in Winterfell."

He smiled brightly before speaking again, the shyness fading away. "We are of course gracious for your blessings my Lady and after we win this war we certainly will visit… but first we must win the war. I had hoped that you still held Lord Tywin Lannister's son as captive?"

She sighed. "I did held him, but no longer. I was no more pleased than you my lords. The gods saw it fit to free him, with the help of my fool of a sister. I traveled to the vale with hopes of bring some Knights home with me but it seems she has lost her wits with the death of her husband."

The grumbling of the Lords told her that they were upset at her, but Domeric nodded and smiled at her, asserting his position as Robb's right hand. "I understand my Lady, do not worry yourself as it does not matter too much. We will have all of the Lannister's in chains soon enough."

After that there was nothing more to be said. The lords were anxious to question her further, but Catelyn raised a hand. "No doubt we will have time for all this later, but my journey has been tiring. I would speak with my son and good-brother alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords."

While she waited for them to exit, she ripped a piece of bread from the table and studied her son. He was taller than when she'd left him, and his beard did make him look older. She turned to Benjen and asked him, "are we safe to speak freely here?"

"Aye," Benjen responded, "but even still let us keep our voices low."

She turned to her son, studying him more before smiling."Your Uncle Edmure was sixteen when he grew his first whiskers."

"I will be sixteen soon enough," Robb responded.

"And you are fifteen now. Fifteen, and leading a host to battle. Can you understand why I fear so much, Robb?"

He looked at her and frowned before sighing, "I understand mother. There is much to fear but father has confidence in me to led our men to victory. He has seen it in his dreams. When has he been wrong?"

She sighed back at him, a dropped her voice so that only Robb and Benjen could hear. "He told me to capture Tyrion Lannister and look where we are. He was wrong about that. I know he has confidence in these things that he dreams, but I am beginning to doubt whether he tells the entire picture."

"I often feel that way as well," Benjen admitted. "I question him when I can but he had not led us astray so far about anything, and if what he says comes for us is true, then we will need the entire realm behind us. Robert might have eventually believed him, but he could bring a wight to the throne of King Joffrey himself and the Lannister's would send no aid. Besides, you have seen that boy, he is a cruel as the mad King ever was."

"I just don't understand his plot," she whispered even quieter. "No doubt now three will try to claim that crown, a fourth if you count Jon. How does he plan to out maneuver Stannis, Renly and Lord Twyin. I don't see it."

"He is in Highgarden isn't he?" Robb asked, though his tone told her that he knew the answer. She nodded at him and he spoke again as if were the simplest thing in the world, "I believe he means to marry Jon to lady Margaery."

Catelyn paused for a moment, that made sense but, "How?" she questioned. "With Renly there and nobody else besides us in this room knowing of Jon, how could he possibly get that proposition off? Renly has every opportunity to claim the throne now, especially now that Stannis has made it clear that Cersei's children are not those of the late King Robert. He is in Highgarden where the roses are ambitious as they come with your father at his side, making it seem like the North would be at his side. He has no reason not to claim the throne."

She stumped them, as they both looked at her, racking their minds to come up with an answer, a solution to the questions she asked but she could visibly see them failing. "He dreams of something he has not told us."

Robb sighed again. "There is a boy that came North with Sansa and Arya. Sansa said father gave her specific orders to protect him. He isn't great with a sword, and lived among the small folk in King's Landing as a child, but Sansa says that father swore he was important nevertheless. You can see him for yourself tomorrow. He looks just like the late King."

"How old is he?" Catelyn asked, surprise in her voice.

"He is my age," Robb answered.

"That would make him the late King Robert's eldest natural son," Catelyn responded and then it clicked. "Your father protects him because he means for the boy to become Lord of the Stormlands."

"That means he expects both Renly and Stannis to perish," Benjen responded, confusion written on his face.

Catelyn frowned. She was sure of it but that only meant one thing. Ned had to of dreamed that Stannis and Renly Baratheon would die and if what they thought was true, would do nothing to stop it. She was starting to wonder who her husband was becoming.

"I can't save everyone," he once told her. She remembered that his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke those words, almost as if he was struggling to accept it.

"Enough of that," she said suddenly. "If the gods are good, we will be able to discuss this with Ned when we see him next. Pray that it is soon. For now, we have a war to prepare for. Tell me what you know of the fighting in the riverlands."

"Less than a fortnight past, they fought a battle in the bills below the Golden Tooth," Benjen spoke. "My good-brother sent Lord Vance and Lord Piper to hold the pass, but the Kingslayer descended on them easily. It was a route if word is to be believed. Lord Vance was slain, and Lord Piper was forced to retreat to Riverrun with Jaime Lannister on his heels. Thats not the worst of it, though. All the time this was happening, Lord Tywin was bringing a second Lannister army from the south. It could be even larger than Jaime's host."

"Father must have known that," Robb said, "because before he left King's Landing he sent out some men to oppose them, under the king's own banner. He gave the command to Lord Beric Dondarrion, and they would have run right into a trap if not for Jon and Arthur. They captured the Mountain which allowed Lord Beric Dondarrion to make it to Riverrun safely. Jon's last letter said that they traveled with them towards the Twin's to speak with Lord Frey."

"Only we have heard nothing from Jon or Ser Arthur sense," Robb continued. "It is almost like they are ghost. The only things that our scouts can gather is that no food, supplies or ravens have left the Twins in the last moon. Which only means that father gave Ser Arthur the same orders he gave me."

"What orders are those," Catelyn asked.

"Do not negotiate with the Frey's. Either they come with us to Riverrun freely, or we find another way."

"That would mean taking the Kingsroad until it meets the River Road and traveling to Riverrun from there," Catelyn said.

"Maybe," Robb responded cryptically, "but, I cannot take all fifty thousand men with me south. We must leave a garrison here at The Moat in case anybody else tries to get any ideas. The same must be said for the cities and towns along the Eastern and Western coast. Twenty five thousand men came to Winterfell to answer my call. I left Winterfell with fifteen thousand. The rest of them were sent to defend the coast at Deepwood, Sea Dragon Point, Karhold and The Dreadfort. I will have to send some men gathered here to defend Window's Watch and Cape Kraken as well. Our Navy is strong, but I would rather give them some backup. We must defend the North first. If word got out that we left it defenseless, the vultures would come. "

"How many men do you plan to march south with?" Catelyn asked.

"Thirty thousand," Robb responded. "Thirty-five if if is plausible. Scouts say that Lord Twin has close to forty thousand men between his two host. I mean to match those numbers as much as possible, and when we free the Riverlands, there will be even more."

Grim and grimmer, though Catelyn. It wasn't as bad as she had thought it might be, Robb's reasoning made sense to her so far. "You mean to meet him there?" she asked pointing at the map. If Ser Arthur wasn't successful at the Twins and Robb refused to negotiate with Lord Walder, it was the only way. "You mean to fight him at Harrenhal?"

"He won't come that far," Benjen responded. "and that would be suicide. Reports say that Lord Tywin has marched his host to Harrenhal, burning and looting everything along the way. He will reach the castle before we do. If he stays there, he could wait for us to get to the River road and attack us from the east. No doubt Jamie would then cease the siege and attack us from the west. He knows that just as much as we do. He will stay in the Trident, taking each castle one by one until Riverrun stands alone. We need to march south to meet him."

The very idea of that chilled Catelyn to the bone. What chance would a fifteen-year-old boy have against seasoned battle commanders like Jaime and Tywin Lannister? "Is that wise? Ned has rebuilt this place for a reason. They would never make it past here."

"You mean to let Uncle suffer alone while his bannermen are slaughtered?" Robb asked, the shock that his mother would suggest such a thing evident in his voice.

"It is not a decision I would make easily," Catelyn responded, "but you have not left me with any other good options. Walder Frey will not let us cross there. He cares little about famed knights such as Ser Arthur, and in his eyes your brother is naught but a bastard looking for glory. Lord Lannister would trap us if we marched south down the Kingsroad. You have not listed given me an idea of how you plan to win the battles that are to come. What do you mean to do?"

"As you say mother," Robb looked at her confidently.

Robb drew a map across the table, and pointed at Moat Cailin. "The last time father marched south, he had ten thousand men. I will march south with three times as that but… Twyin Lannister does not know that. When Jamie and Tyrion marched through these castle halls with King Robert, Uncle Benjen may have shown them the giants but he hid the men well. He made it seem like there was a garrison of two thousand men here, when in reality, there are four times as many. He sent them to other keeps, to Salt harbor, White Harbor, even as far as Oldcastle. They did not return until the King and his men had left the North."

"I'd only travel south with twenty thousand men," Robb said. "Let what they think of us be their doom. Once we are below the neck, I'd split our host in two. The foot can continue down the kingsroad while our horsemen cross the Green Fork at the Twins." He pointed. "When Lord Twyin gets word that we've come south, he'll march north to engage our main host, leaving our riders free to hurry down the west bank to Riverrun."

"You just said that you would not negotiate with Walder Frey," Catelyn responded.

"Lord Frey will give me the twins," Rob responded confidently. "I trust Ser Arthur to get him let us pass."

Catelyn frowned at the map. "If you are certain but still, you would put a river between the two parts of your army."

"No, between Jamie and Lord Tywin," he said eagerly, the smile he was holding back coming at last "ur foot soldiers will not engage Tywin. They will stall for as long as possible. Drawing him as north as they can until it is too late for Tywin to turn and reinforce his son. Once they got past a certain point, they would do a full retreat to Moat Cailin."

She had to admit it was a solid plan. Ned strived to keep his plans hidden from the Southern Lords. Besides the two Harbors, not many people traveled any further up the Kingroad to see the bustling towns and keeps that popped up. If Tywin thought that Robb was marching south with more men, he might be more cautious.

"Which force will you command?" she asked.

"The horse," he answered immediately as if it were obvious.

"And the other?'

"I will" Benjen responded, smiling at her. "I've been hiding giants as much as possible for a long time. I can have ways of making Tywin Lannister think more men are coming marching at him."

"But Uncle," Robb started nervously, but Benjen quickly cut him off. "Enough Robb. Do you not trust yourself nephew?"

Robb stared at him for a long time. "I do."

"Then trust yourself in this. Your plan is solid, Tywin Lanister will not know what happened until it is too late."

"Let us pray that he does," Catelyn responded, not being able to shake the feeling that there was something the two of them were not telling her, the same feeling she got with Ned.

Robb nodded and rolled up the map. "I'll give the commands, and assemble an escort to take you home to Winterfell."

She looked at him again, remembering again the fact that he was only a fifteen year old boy. She would have to keep herself strong, for his sake especially because Ned wasn't here to do it like he should be. His father had already abandoned them for dreams in Highgarden, she could not find it in her to do the same, besides, Robb's plan was sound, with the defenses he put in place nobody could touch the north.

More than that, though was the nagging need to question her husband. It wasn't fair that he had left their fifteen-year-old son, and fifteen-year-old nephew to themselves in the Riverlands to fight a war against seasoned men. No one could convince her otherwise.

"I am not going to Winterfell," she said, defiant a sudden rush of tears blurred her vision. "My father may be dying behind the walls of Riverrun. My brother is surrounded by foes. I refuse to leave you alone although I have much faith that you will be victorious. I must go to my family. I must stay with you."

He stood then, taller than she remembered, more confident and sure of himself. He pulled her up to her feet and wrapped her tightly. "Mother I've missed you."

"I've missed you too my son."

* * *

A/N: Hey you guys. Quick note, I fixed the summer mistake in my last chapter. Sorry about that.

Writing this chapter and editing it, I am actually quite afraid you guys won't understand why Robb is doing the exact same plan as he has in cannon even though he has more men. I hope I made it clear why. I think it would be smart of Robb to allow Lord Tywin to think he also has a certain amount of men when in reality, he has more. It makes sense to me besides the plan to split the forces is pretty clever and shows how much of an expert Commander Robb was early on in the book at the show.

Obviously Benjen replaces Roose here. I think it was an obvious choice. I don't write sentences for no reason, so hopefully some of you can figure out that bit between Robb and Benjen at the end. A tad bit of foreshadowing, I think.

Up next our favorite Lannister tells his father about the giants. Let us see what happens with that!

Probably won't be a post for a week or two thought. I'm building a new PC and all my parts come in for that this weekend, but most importantly I'm getting married next week! I think I told you guys my fiance and I were supposed to get married back in March but Covid canceled it. Well now that my part of New York is pretty much back to business, we found someone that could actually marry us. Is it exactly what we wanted? No, but I am excited nevertheless. What is funny about it, is that next week was supposed to be our honey moon lol. Anyway I digress.

Until next time!


	32. Jon VI

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

"_High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…_" the song danced in his head like the sword of Edric Dayne was dancing toward him, stuck there ever since he heard Tom of Sevenstreams sing it during their brief stay at the ruins of Oldstone. It was a sad and haunting song, but it stuck with him, although he really couldn't figure out why.

The young Dayne picked up his attack then, he had been stuck to Arthur ever since he met him, not that Ser Arthur or Lord Dondarrion seemed to mind. "I wouldn't be too upset if you squired for your uncle instead of me," the lightning lord, as his men called him, said. "Although, I'm not quite sure how your Aunt would feel. She never spoke too kindly about your Uncle."

Edric didn't seem to care what his sister thought, and took the words spoke by Lord Dondarrion as permission to spend more time with his Uncle. It had effected Arthur. Although those who didn't know him would find it hard to tell, Jon could see it bothered him. "My sister," he asked Edric while they road side by side on their travels, "Is she really that upset with me?"

"She blames you for a lot," Edric Dayne responded solemnly. "I never understood."

"I do," Ser Arthur responded softly. "What I would give to go back and change a few things."

A practice sword flashing in front of him broke him from his memories. Edric wasn't exactly a natural with the sword, but Jon would bet that anyone that spent any amount of time getting pointers on fighting from Ser Arthur would improve a lot over a short period of time. Edric still was not a match for him.

When he raised his sword, Jon went underneath it with a sweeping blow that crunched against the back of the young Dayne's legs that sent him staggering. Edric's downcut was answered by a slight tap that touched his helm. When he tried a sideswing, Jon swept aside his blade and pushed the boy so that he fell flat on his ass. Jon knocked the sword from his hand with a touch to his wrist that was hard enough to hurt but not to do any damage. Ser Arthur had always made him and Robb feel their mistakes in the yard. Jon would do the same for the young Dayne.

"Yield," Jon smiled at him, and the boy nodded. Ser Arthur stepped in.

"Your feed should be further apart when you try that sidestroke," he told Edric. He drew Dawn and got into his stance. That got everyone's attention. Only fools would not watch when Ser Arthur drew his sword. "You don't want to lose balance," he showed his nephew the stance. "Now if you pivot as you deliver the stroke, you can get all your weight behind the blade." He slashed the air in front of him, the sound of Dawn cutting through air, loud and powerful.

"Like this?" Edric asked, copying his uncle perfectly. "Aye," Arthur responded with a nod. "Now practice, this time with Sam, so that you may perfect your moves."

Jon turned to Sam who stepped forward eagerly. Sam didn't really like fighting with a sword or training in general but he had made a promise to his Jon's Uncle Benjen to take all training, whether that be with a sword or with a book, seriously. He had improved a lot since the beginning of their journey, still, he would never be a master with a sword.

"The rest of you, get training of find something else to do the help the camp," Ser Arthur told them all. "I'll not have any man sitting here not doing their fair share." Men scattered at his command, while others, like Gren and Pyp, picked up their practice swords and started sparring. "Jon walk with me."

They walked a fair bit away from the camp, only stopping for Jon to whistle for Ghost, before Arthur spoke to him. "You were distracted during training today. What is on your mind."

Jon sighed. "Old Stones did not sit well with my spirit. It felt like someone was watching me." It was odd, but it was the truth. He could not rest at the ruined castle, and he felt like he was being judge."

Arthur smiled and laughed at him. "It was probably Jenny."

"The girl in the sad song that Tom sang?" Jon asked. "Even if I were to say that ghost were real, what could Jenny of Oldstones possibly want with me."

"What do you know of Duncan Targaryen?" Ser Arthur asked him, taking the time to sit on a large rock at the edge of the camp.

"Ser Duncan the tall?" Jon asked. He was honest with himself, so that he knew that histories weren't his strong suit. He knew the houses of the North and the major houses in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and the major wars, but didn't know much more than that. The lack of knowledge was part of the reason why he was so apprehensive when it came to taking the throne. He could tell everything that needed to be known about the Glovers, but when it came to houses like Redwyne, there was little that he could say.

"No, not that one," Ser Arthur responded. "I speak of Prince Duncan, the first child and eldest son born to King Aegon V and his wife Queen Betha. He was named after Ser Duncan that Tall who happened to be a dear friend of King Aegon."

"His oldest son?" Jon asked. "I thought King Jaehaerys II came after King Aegon V?"

"You are correct," Ser Arthur said, "but that was only because Prince Duncan fell in love. He was traveling the riverlands much like we are today when he met a fell inlove with a strange, yet lovely and mysterious peasant woman known as Jenny of Oldstones. She claimed to be a descendant of the long vanished kings of the First Men. The ruined castle of Oldstones was once the seat of House Mudd."

"He married her, didn't he?" Jon guessed. It made sense. Jaehaerys would only be King before Duncan if Duncan did something to cause him to be removed from the line of succession.

"He did," Ser Arthur answered. And if you think about it, a lot of the issues we have dealt with and continue to deal with can be traced back to this one decision. You see, before he married Jenny, he was betrothed to a daughter of Lyonel Baratheon. When Lord Baratheon found out about the marriage, he felt so slighted that he led a rebellion that only ended when Ser Duncan the Tall defeated Lord Lyonel in single combat. Due to those events, King Aegon's advisors strongly suggested he force Prince Duncan to abdicate the throne, and marry his daughter Rhaelle to Lord Lyonel's heir Ormund Baratheon,"

"King Robert's grandmother?" Jon asked, the name sounded familiar. Maester Luwin had made sure they knew the family trees of King Robert.

"Aye," Ser Arthur responded. "The man that took the throne from House Targaryen partially exist due to Prince Duncan marrying Jenny instead of Lord Lyonel's daughter, though that is not all. You, yourself exist due to that same decision."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked confused.

"When Jenny arrived at court, she bought her dear friend who she claimed was one of the children of the forest. That same woman prophesied that the prince that was promised would be born from the line of Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella Targaryen. When Prince Jaehaerys heard the prophecy he arranged a marriage between his two children."

"King Aerys the mad," Jon said, the bile rising in his throat. "Rhaegar's father."

"Your other grandfather," Ser Arthur corrected him politely. "I won't lie to you. Rhaegar was my friend. We were close, but that does not mean he was without flaw. He was even more obsessed with prophecy than his grandfather King Jaehaerys was, and because of that he sought out another woman when it was made clear that Princess Elia couldn't have another child. The dragon must have three heads, he always said. When he found your mother, at first I feared that she was just a way for him to get his third dragon. His Visenya to his Aegon and Rhaeny's but I was wrong. Yes, Lyanna did give birth to you but he did really love her. There was little doubt about that."

"Why didn't they just tell someone?" Jon asked. "It might have prevented so much..."

"What he and your mother did was foolish and I let them know that often," Ser Arthur responded sadly. "I was powerless to stop them. I begged them to ride North instead of South so that they could tell Lord Rickard in person. Instead they rode south and relied on letters that never were delivered."

"What happened to the letters?"

Ser Arthur shrugged. "Who knows. I saw the Maester send them but what happened has already came to be. We cannot change it, but we can learn from it. Some matters must be handled personally. I do hope you understand that."

"I understand it, but I don't see how it can be possible," Jon responded. "If I need to tell Robb something important, but I am in Kings Landing and he in Winterfell, how do I tell him but a letter?"

"What is important? Is it important enough that it could start a war? Those words should be delivered in person. If you must sail to White Harbor so that you can ride to Winterfell, then it must be done. It was obvious to me that King Rhaegar and Queen Lyanna deciding to run off together could start something big. They thought that their letters would reach her father and end it before it started, yet they chose to ignore history. The last time House Baratheon was slighted they rebelled. Lord Lyonel did not have the allies that King Robert held. That was the difference."

He didn't respond for a moment, thinking about what he was told. He decided that Ser Arthur was right. He would try to be as open and honest as possible if he ever became what they wanted him too. He still wasn't sure that it would ever happen, although he could see the wheels in motion.

"What ever happened to Jenny?" Jon asked?

"The tragedy of Summerhall," Ser Arthur responded somberly. "That is actually what Jenny's song is about. It was a great fire that consumed the lives of King Aegon, Prince Duncan, Ser Duncan the Tall, and Jenny herself. No one knows quite what happened. The peasants old enough to remember say that there was a lot of witchcraft gone wrong, that the Targaryen's tried to bring back the dragons and failed… yet a dragon was born. Your father was born during that tragedy."

"Jenny's friend," Jon asked, again using time to gather his thoughts. "She said that the prince who was promised would come from King Aerys's and Queen Rhaella's line, surely Rhaegar didn't think that was him?"

"He did for a while," Ser Arthur responded honestly. "When Aegon was born, he thought it to be him. He planned to marry Rhaenys and you, Visenya, to him and he would be Aegon the Conqueror reborn. It is obvious that he was wrong. Your are not Visenya, and your siblings to not live anymore. He was wrong."

Jon scowled, suddenly it clicked for him. "My father thinks that the prince that his promised is me then doesn't he? That is what he means when he says that he believes that I can lead the pack through winter?"

"It is hard to know or even begin to understand what Lord Stark thinks or believes. It could be that he does think you to be this Prince. Maybe he just thinks that because he has taught you and warned you of the Others since you were a boy that if you were on the throne, the realm would be more prepared. Perhaps its both or more or neither. Lord Stark is a mystery even to me."

"But you trust him," Jon questioned.

"He has yet to be wrong about anything," Ser Arthur responded.

"I shall ask him myself when I see him next," Jon responded.

"You should," Ser Arthur responded. "Maybe he will tell you, but I doubt he will tell you everything. It always feels like he only telling enough that it satisfies a curiosity or two, but not all of them. However, enough of all of that. It wasn't my original intention to give you a family history lesson. I had originally came to tell you that I have been in contact with Howland Reed. He was a friend of your mothers. We ride for his lands just north of here. The Twins are to the East. We must be careful so that they do not know of our presence. That is why we have traveled so far west and near the cape. We should arrive within the week. There are some swamp lands there that we will stay until we can join your brother once he crosses the Twins."

"You are positive that Robb will cross the Twins?"

"Lord Stark has yet to be wrong. He told me that Riverrun would be in trouble, and that if I could convince Lord Edmure to change his strategy to hold it, I should do so. If I could not, he told me to wait for Robb to cross the Twins as he could need our help."

"Then we ride towards the Cape of Eagles then," Jon responded, his interest peaked. If Lord Reed was a friend of his mother, he was interested in talking to him. Ser Arthur had told him a lot about his father, yet beside a small story he couldn't speak much on his mother. He could tell that it hurt his father to talk to much about his sister. Maybe Lord Reed could tell him more.

* * *

A/N: Hey you guys. Sorry for the wait here. I know I said Tyrion was next, but like I told you all before, I built a new computer. The Tyrion chapter is actually on my old computer and I haven't moved it over yet. Once I do move it over, probably tomorrow or Tuesday, I will post it. I decided that I would post this because I am always doing research and re-reading the books and watching episodes of the show so that I can pull somethings from cannon lore.

I just got to the part in Storm of Swords where the Ghost of High Heart requested Jenny's song and it was like a lightbulb went off in my head... so I decided to give Jon a Targaryen history lesson. This chapter, however didn't exist before. Originally I had just planned to skip all this and just have Jon meet Howland in the next Jon chapter.

I will say, I do not know if I am geographically correct in where I have placed Jon in this chapter. We know that the Twins border the Neck and every map I have seen seems to have some swamp lands or trees to the west, witch is North-west of Seagard and a little bit North of the Cape of Eagles. I am assuming that those trees we see on the maps are part of the swamp lands of the Neck, although someone feel free to correct me if I am wrong. We know that Greywater Watch moves, so I am taking creative liberties to have it move in that area. I hope that makes sense, although it is not cannon.

Anyways, hope to post another one ASAP. Like I said I have Tyrion's next chapter as well as Catelyn's ready to go, just have to move them from one hard drive to the new computer.

Thank you to everyone who wished me well for my wedding! It was great and I appreciate all the support and messages that I got! Again, I remained surprised and forever grateful for the support that this story has and continues to receive!

Until next time!


	33. Tyrion III

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Tyrion

Lord Tywin's camp spread over leagues. Chella, daughter of Cheyk of the Black ears had gone ahead to scout earlier, and it was she who brought back work of his fathers army at the crossroads. "By their fires I call them twenty thousand strong," she said. She was a small woman, flat like a boy but she was no fool. Riding among the men now, he had could see that she could count.

The common men camped out in the open, but the knights had thrown up tents, and some high lords had erected pavilions as large as houses. In the distance he could see the red ox of the Presters, Lord Crakehall's brindled boar, the burning tree of Marbrand, and the badger of Lydden. Knights called out to him as he cantered past, not because they liked him, but because who his father was, while other men-at-arms gaped at the clansmen in open astonishment. Tryion had little reason too care about their open stares and muffled japes. These men had shown to be loyal so far, he just had to get them what d\they wanted.

Besides, the clansman were gaping just as hard. He doubted a man like Shagga had ever seen so many men, horses and weapons in all his days. The rest of his mountain men tried to do a better job of hiding their awe, but Tryion knew that they still held it all the same. That was a good sign. The more impressed they were with the power of the Lannisters, the easier they would be to command.

The inn and its stables were much as he remembered, though the village around it had been put to the torch, surely his father's work. A gibbet had been erected in the yard, and the body that swung there was covered with ravens picking at rotten flesh.

Small squires and pages emerged hestantly from the stables to see to their horses. Shagga, naturally, did not want to give his up. "The lad won't steal your mare," Tyrion assured him. "He only wants to give her some oats and water and brush out her coat. You have my word, the horse will not be harmed."

Glaring, Shagga let his grip on the reins loosen before he screamed at the boy, "this is the horse of Shagga son of Dolf."

"I know, I know," Tryion sighed. "If he doesn't give her back, you will chop off his manhood and feed it to the goats." He grew tired of the same phrase being repeated at him over and over.

A pair of house guards in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms stood under the inn's sign, on either side of the door. "My father?" Tyrion asked.

"In the common room, m'lord" the guard responded with a small bow.

"My men will want meat and mead," Tryion commanded, feeling much more confident commanding the household guard than he ever did the mountain men."See that they get it."

He entered the inn, and there was his father. At once his pale green eyes, flecked with gold found Tyrion's own and began searching for answers. Tyrion looked away, only to catch the eyes of his uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, who was sharing a flagon of ale with Lord Tywin. There were some maps on the table. "Tyrion," his uncle said in surprise.

"Uncle," Tyrion responded, bowing respectfully, "And my great lord father. What a pleasure to find you here."

His father didn't budge, refusing to even shift the tiniest amount. Instead, he continued to stare deep into him, giving Tyrion a long, searching look. He finally spoke. "I see the that the rumors of your demise were unfounded."

"I don't mean to disappoint," Tyrion responded easily. "No need to leap up and celebrate for me, it's not like I have not survived great peril or anything of the nature." He crossed the room, self conscious if the waddling due to his short legs, before he climbed into a chair next to them and poured himself a cup of ale. "Kind of you to go to war for me."

"It is you who started this," Lord Tywin responded quickly. "Your brother Jaime would never have submitted to capture at the hands of a woman."

"That's one way we differ, Jamie and I," Tywin answered. "Although I've never heard a tale of Jamie being outnumbered thirty to five in this very inn. Maybe you should burn it down like the rest of the village as surely it has slighted us just as much?"

Tywin ignored his jest easily. "The honor of our House was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity."

"Hear Me Roar," Tyrion grinned, his teeth showing. "Truth be told, Catelyn Stark never actually shed my blood. Lysa Arryn came closer than Lady Stark ever did. In fact, Lady Stark had grown so disgusted with her sister's actions, she left even before my trial could begin. I did lose my men though."

"And I suppose you will be wanting some new men?"

Tyrion scoffed. "Did you not teach me to be wise and cunning? Do you not trust me with those lessons? Don't trouble yourself, father, I've acquired a few of my own." Lord Tywin Lannister ignored him again, and he sighed before knocking back his ale. "How is your war going?"

"Poorly at first," his uncle answered. "Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Eddard Stark's bastard captured Ser Gregor Clegane. They routed his men and currently he rots in the dungeons of Riverrun according to our scouts. We thought we had an uphill battle when that happened but Ser Edmure Tully has made nothing but mistakes since. He scattered small troops of men along his borders to stop our raiding, but your lord father and I were able to destroy most of them before they could regroup."

"Your brother has been covering himself with glory," his father said evenly. "He smashed the Lords Vance and Piper at the Golden Tooth, and met the massed power of the Tullys under the walls of Riverrun. The lords of the Trident has been put to rout. Ser Edmure Tully was taken captive with many of his knights and banner men. Lord Blackwood led a few survivors back to Riverrun, where Jaime has them under siege. The rest fled to their own strongholds."

"Ser Arthur and the bastard," Tyrion asked, "Does Jamie have them as well?"

"No, they escaped North before Jamie fought at Riverrun," Ser Kevan responded pointing at the map toward a wooded area north-west of the twins. "Our scouts last saw them traveling north of Seagard but they have lost them. They could be anywhere, but if I had to guess I think they would have went to the swamps. The Twins border the Neck, and any of the men loyal to House Stark that live there could hide them."

"I doubt it," Tyrion responded. "If there was a way through the neck that went around the twins then the north men would have been using it for years. It is more likely that they camp at the edge of those woods and wait."

"It doesn't matter for now," his father interrupted. "They are out of the way for now. I can deal with them later."

"The Frey's and the Mallister then," Tryion said. "Are they the only houses leaving you unopposed?"

Lord Tywin responded, "Walder Frey will take our side once he see's that we will win and Jason Mallister lacks the strength to fight alone. Once Jamie takes Riverrun, they will both be quick enough to bend the knee. Unless the Starks and the Arryns come forth to oppose us, this war is good as won."

"I would not worry about the Arryns if I were you," Tyrion began before turning serious. "The Starks are another matter. With Ser Arthur and Lord Stark's bastard stuck in the Riverlands, surely they will respond. Edmure Tully is family… but that is not all father. They have -"

"A green boy leading them," his father finished for him. "Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters have left King's Landing. Word has reached us that he has made himself comfortable in Highgarden with Lord Renly Baratheon. The Starks are not a threat to us as long as Lord Eddard is stuck in the Reach."

"No" Ser Kevan agreed, "but his son has called the banners and sits at Moat Cailin with a strong host around him."

"No sword is strong until it's been tempered," Lord Tywin declared. "The Stark boy is a child. No doubt he likes the sound of warhorns well enough, and the sight of his banners fluttering in the wind, but in the end it comes down to butcher's work. I doubt he has the stomach for it."

Tyrion actually laughed. His father couldn't have known. The confused look of his Uncle and the hard look his father gave him told Tyrion that he couldn't have known. "Surely Jamie told you?" Tyrion asked,

"Told me what?" Lord Tywin responded icily. Tyrion knew his father well enough to know that Jamie had indeed told him. His father had chosen not to believe it. His laugh died instantly, and instead he was curious.

"I doubt the experience of a boy matters if said boy can command giants riding mammoths at you. They have giants, father. Some as tall as fifteen feet. The stand taller than the walls of some keeps.

We have all gravely underestimated Lord Eddard Stark. All these years we assumed that he was just making changes to get rich and better the lives of his people. We were wrong. I see it now. He was preparing for war. Moat Cailin stands rebuilt in all its former glory, unbreakable to all who dare attempt to lay siege to her walls. Giants roam those frigid lands freely and he has let the wildlings south of the wall. They were free before, they answer to the Starks now, men who are naught but savages at heart."

"I had hoped you would be more useful," Lord Tywin responded. "You could have just skipped my camp entirely if you were just going to repeat that nonsense that your brother spoke of."

"Why would I lie?" Tyrion responded coolly. "Send word to Cersei, she will tell you the same thing. Gods, even there horses aren't regular horses. Benjen Stark married a woman from Skagos and the Starks have used that connection to breed horses with horns growing out of their heads that could gore a man. For the sake of our house, take the Stark boy and his uncle seriously. It is no mistake that Ser Arthur, a man loyal to Lord Eddard Stark and his bastard have captured Ser Gregor. The Starks are not playing."

"I will tell you the same that I told your brother," Lord Tywin spoke, the temperature in his voice dropping even lower. "We have been trading with the North for years since they built that harbor on the west coast. I have had men eat and drink in Winterfell. None of them have reported these giants. None of them have seen the horses with horns as you claim the Starks have."

"So who do you believe more," Tyrion asked. "These men or your children. Write to Cersei, ask her if she has seen what Jamie and I have. Hope that she can confirm it before you march us to doom." He sighed. The only hope he had now was that King Robert would step in and end this foolishness. "And how does the King feel about this all? He can't be happy that we are warring with the man he calls his brother."

"Robert Baratheon is dead," Tywin responded. "Your nephew reigns in King's Landing."

"You mean Cersei rules," Tyrion responded able to recover quickly from his initial shock. It made sense what his father was saying now. Lord Stark and Renly obviously saw what would happen to them and left the capital. "What a great job she is doing, letting three valuable prisoners escape. They could have been great leverage against the Stark boy."

"If you have mind to make yourself of use, I will give you a command," his father responded ignoring the dig at his Cersei. "Marq Piper and Karyl Vance are loose in our rear, raiding our lands across the Red Fork."

Tyrion made a tsking sound and shook his head, thoughts of taking over the vale running rampant. "The absolute gall of them, fighting back. Ordinarily I'd be glad to punish such rudeness father, but the truth is, I have pressing business elsewhere."

The door behind him opened with a crash, so violent that Tyrion dropped his goblet of ale that he was drinking. Shagga entered the room, snapping a man's sword over his knee. He threw down the pieces and kicked the man in the stomach before storming into the room. "When you next bare steal on Shagga son of Dolf, I will chop off your manhood and roast it in the fire."

Tyrion snorted. "What, no goats?"

The other clansmen followed Shagga into the common room, Bronn with them. Bronn grinned brightly at him and Tyrion picked up his fallen glass to raise it at them.

"Who might you be?" Lord Tywin asked, he voice reminding Tyrion of the cold weather at the wall.

"They followed me home, Father," Tyrion responded cheerily. "May I keep them? They don't eat much, I promise."

The problem was that no one was smiling. "Introduce them," Lord Tyrion said. That was easily done, and Tyrion introduced each of the men in turn.

"Even in the west, we know the prowess of the warrior clans of the Mountains of the Moon. What brings you down from your strongholds, my lords?"

"Horses," said Shagga.

"A promise of silk and steel," said Timmet son of Timmet.

Tyrion was about to tell his lord father how he proposed to reduce the Vale of Arryn to a smoking wasteland, but he never was given the chance. The door banged open again and a messenger strolled quickly into the room before dropping on one knee before Lord Tywin. "My lord," he said. "Ser Addam bid me to tell you that the Stark host is moving down the causeway."

He couldn't remember a time he saw his father smile, but once again Tyrion had learned to read his father tells. He asked the man a question but stared deeply at Tyrion all the same. "And do tell me ser, did Ser Addam mention anything about any giants or horses with horns on their heads?"

The messenger looked up at Lord Tywin, a strange look on his face. "No m'lord. Only that they are advancing down the causeway."

Tyrion shook his head. They were doomed "Message Cersei, I beg of you."

His father looked at him again, a hard look in his eyes. "Kevan, send a raven to Cersei with great haste. Ask her if what her brothers have said is true. Surely all three of my children can't be this dense." He turned to the messenger. "Return to Ser Addam and tell him to fall back. He is not to engage the northerners until we arrive, but I want him to harass their flanks and draw them farther south."

Tyrion sighed. It was as good as being ignored. A message would not get to Cersei and back in time and any of the men who rode with them North were in King's Landing. The rider nodded and left before his uncle spoke again. "We are well stationed here. Surely if they ride south, we should let them come and break themselves against us?"

"No, the boy may see our numbers and lose his courage," Lord Tywin replied. "The sooner we break the Starks, the sooner I am free to deal with Stannis Baratheon. Tell the drummers to beat assembly, and send word to Jamie that I am marching against Robb Stark."

"Gods help us all," Tyrion sighed before he downed another cup of ale.

* * *

A/N: I said Tuesday but today is Friday and for that I am sorry. Lol. I try to keep a mental upload schedule, but with work and everything else I have going on, sometimes I just forget. Sorry!

I'm sure a lot of you will ask how the North could keep so many secrets from the rest of the south, but I think its very obvious in the books and the show that before the War of the Five Kings, the south didn't care much about what went on in the North at all unless it had to do with the port at White Harbor. Here I have created another one in the west, but the way I have the giants and war unicorns set up they really only frequent the Neck and Barrowlands. While it is likely that someone somewhere could have saw them, how likely is it that would have been taken seriously. Unicorns and Giants are myths in Westeros, and the North is naught but savages. I hope the reasoning makes sense.

Next chapter is a Catelyn. Soon! I promise =)

As always, tell me what it is you think! I am happy to hear suggestions and open to answering any questions or constructive criticisms you may have. Until next time!


	34. Catelyn V

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Catelyn

Robb rode at the front of the column, beneath the flapping white banner of Winterfell. Each day he would ask one of his lords to join him, so that they might discuss strategy as they marched, honoring every man in turn, showing no favorites. He reminded her so much of his father, weighing the words of one against the other.

There was however a slight difference. Ned always seemed to know…. And although her son had learned so much from Ned, he hadn't gained that ability. Maybe he hadn't learned enough…

Her uncle, the Blackfish had taken a hundred picked men and a hundred of their fastest normal horses and raced ahead to screen their movements and scout the way. Robb's plan of hiding his strength was a good one, and hopefully he would be able to catch Lord Tywin by surprise. Reports had told them that Lord Tywin's host was still many days to the south but Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing, had asssembled a force of near four thousand men at his castles on the Green Fork.

"Late again," she whispered when she heard. Her brother Edmure had called the banners; bu rights, Lord Frey should have gone to join the Tully host at Riverrun, yet here he sat.

"Four thousand men," Robb repeated, he was cool and calm although a bit confused. "Lord Frey cannot hope to fight the Lannisters by himself. Surely he means to join his power to ours."

"Does he?" Catelyn asked. She had ridden forward to join Robb and Robett Gloverm his companion of the day. "I wonder. Expect nothing of Walder Frey, and you will never be surprised."

"He owes his loyalty to Grandfather," Robb responded as if it were that easy.

"Some men take their oaths more seriously than others, Robb," Catelyn responded. "Men south of the Neck are do not answer to their liege lords as easily and quickly as they respond to your father. Lord Walder has always been friendlier with Casterly Rock than my father would have liked."

"Do you think he means to betray us to the Lannisters, my lady?" Lord Glover asked gravely.

"I doubt even Lord Frey know the answer to that question yet," she responded, worry growing in her stomach.

"We will have the twins, Mother," Robb said calmly. It was a statement and her son seemed to have grown tired of the conversation. For now, she would let it go.

That night they made camp on the southern edge of the bogs, between the kingroad and the river. It was Domeric Bolton who brought further word from her uncle. "Ser Bryden says to tell you he's crossed swords with the Lannisters. There are a dozen scouts who won't be reporting back to Lord Tywin anytime soon," he reported evenly. "Ser Addam Marbrand commands their outriders, and he's pulling back south, burning as he goes. He knows where we are, more or less, but the Blackfish vows he will not know when we split."

"Unless Lord Frey tells him," Catelyn responded. "Domeric, when you return to my uncle, tell him he is to place his best bowmen around the Twins, day and night, with orders to bring down any raven the see leaving. I want no birds bringing word of my son's movements to Lord Tywin."

Domeric shook his head and looked at them gravely. "He has seen to it already, my lady…. Although he has not needed to do so. No ravens have flown from the Twins in days and we found our way littered with fallen birds. Ser Marbrand shouted when he found us that he was glad to find the men who had been abducting other Lannister scouts at night but it was the first time we had engaged them. He said he couldn't wait to put the wolf to sleep once and for all."

"Maybe it is Lord Walder," she questioned confused but Domeric shook his head.

"Why would Lord Frey shoot down his own birds?" Domeric questioned? "Besides there had been some fighting between Ser Addam's men and Lord Walder's. Not a day's ride from here we found two Lannister scouts feeding the crows where the Freys had strung them up."

"It has to be Ser Arthur and Jon then," Robb responded with a smile. "They would know that we are coming, and know to help mask our movements. I trust Ser Arthur to take out a couple of Lannisters while he is down there, and to stay discrete while he does it."

"How are you so confident that is them?" Catelyn asked him.

Robb cocked his head at her, looking at Domeric and then looking back at her. He opened his mouth once, but words failed to escape his lips. He opened his mouth again and said "sometimes Grey Wind gets restless during the night and wakes me from my slumbers. I take him down to the river banks and across them I can see a great white wolf with blood red eyes."

"You leave this tent at night alone?" Catelyn responded fuming, her anger rising even more when Robb shrugged it off.

"Grey Wind is with me," he responded as if his wolf were some great warrior that would keep him safe from anything in the realm. "Besides, we have more pressing things to worry about. If Lord Walder is fighting Lannisters, surely he means to join us?"

Catelyn glared at him before responding, "Protecting his lands is one thing. Fighting the Lannisters openly is another."

"Robb turned to Domeric again, "has the Blackfish found another way across the Green Fork?"

"Not this far North," Domeric reported.

Robb sighed. "It is as I feared then. I must have that crossing."

"Surely Lord Frey would let us cross," Domeric responded. "Surely there is a way we could negotiate it with him?"

"The toll would be high," Catelyn responded. "Almost too high to fathom."

"What would my lord father do?" Robb asked her, looking at her for guidance.

"Find a way across," she told him. "Whatever it took."

Robb nodded, "And then so will I. Perhaps if I had a night to sleep on it, I can come up with a plan?"

She nodded and left his tent to return to her own, but not before telling guards to watch him and make sure he didn't leave again that night. In the morning, she was perplexed to hear that only the wolf left the tent. Not her son.

The twins, two formidable castles, identical in every respect, with a bridge arching between, had guarded the crossing for centuries. High curtain walls, deep moats, and heavy oak-and-iron gates protected the approaches. The bridge footings rose from within stout inner keeps. There was a barbican and portcullis on either bank, and the Water Tower defended the span itself.

One glance was sufficient to tell Catelyn that the castle would not be taken by storm. The battlements bristled with spears and swords and scorpions, there was an archer at every arrow slit, the drawbridge was up, the portcullis down, the gates closed and bared.

The Greatjon began to curse and swear as soon as he saw it. Lord Rickard Karstark glowered in silence. "That cannot be assaulted, my lords," Domeric Bolton announced.

"Nor can we take it by siege, without an army on the far bank to invest the other castle," Helman Tallhart said gravely. "Even if we had the time, which to be sure, we do not."

As the northern lords studied the castle, a dozen knights rode forth from it to confront them, led by four of Lord Walder's many sons. Their banner bore twin towers, dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey. Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder's heir spoke for them, "my lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host."

"I do," Robb responded coolly, spurring his horse forward. He was in his armor, with the direwolf shield of Winterfell strapped to his saddle, and Ice strapped across his back. Grey Wind stood on on side, padding the ground like he was making biscuits, while Lyarra stood on the other.

Lord Stevron, although weary of the wolves, had amusement in his eyes. "My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here."

Robb frowned at the knight, before turning slightly to look at his uncle Benjen. Catelyn had found it curious that Benjen hadn't said a word yet, and even now he did not speak. He only moved to give his nephew a slight nod, though his face was grim. She knew something was wrong when Grey Wind stopped padding his feet and the hairs on the back of his neck rose and a low growl erupted from his throat.

"No," Robb's voice boomed, venom dripping from his tongue as if he were a snake. "My Grandfather summoned your father, his bannerman, to protect and serve the Riverlands as it is under attack by Lord Tywin Lannister. He has chosen not to answer that call. That is treason. I will not negotiate with traitors Ser Frey."

At once all of his Lord's went to speak at once and Catelyn counted her voice among them but Benjen stepped forward to hush them all with harsh looks and hand gestures.

"Surely you cannot mean what I think you do," Ser Stevron, measured enough to keep himself from laughing responded.

"I do," Robb responded again and Grey Wind let out a bark. Lyarra started to growl. One of the horses holding one of Lord Frey's many sons bucked him off then, running away while the rider fell. The others struggled to keep control of their horses. "Run along Ser Frey. Tell your father that he will join us by nightfall with the full strength of the Twins. Tomorrow morning we will cross that bridge, and together we will march to free Riverrun from the Lannisters."

"And if he denies?" Ser Stevron Frey responded.

Robb smiled at him grimly. "I wouldn't advise that Ser but if he refuses to listen to your council, tell him that Winter will come for house Frey. If by nightfall he refuses, I will tear the Twins down, stone by stone, and history will forever remember what the north does to traitors."

"As you say, my lord," Ser Stevron Frey responded and turned his horse around, galloping back to the twins. Nobody said a word until the Frey's were back into the safety of their gates, and Catelyn was the first one to turn on Robb.

"Have you lost your wits?" she questioned him furiously. "Please explain to me how you plan to tear the Twins apart, stone by stone, as you say?"

He ignored her, and instead turned to his uncle. "Uncle Benjen, will they be here?"

"They are not far as it is nephew. If you blow the horn, they will come."

"And they will fight for me?" He was nervous. His voice and posture feigned confidence, but she knew her son.

"They will. Out of loyalty to your father, and to me they will fight. Although…." he paused. "I doubt they will travel much further south, the warm weather does not agree with them. Much like Starks of the past, I do not think giants will fare very well very long south of the neck."

Catelyn gasped, stunned into silence. The other Lords realized what would happen as well, and she could tell they were in awe. The respect that they had for her son had grown. Northerners respected loyalty above all else, and had Walder Frey been a lord of the North he would have been hung a long time ago. It was clear to them that Robb was willing to do whatever it took to win now. These men would look at him different from this day forward.

"The let them know that this would be the only battle they fight for me until it is time to fight for the dawn," he responded to his uncle. He then turned to the rest of his men. "When Lord Walder refuses, as I know he will, we will let them feel the might of the north. Our large brothers and sisters will give us our way in. From there, smash all who resist. Spare those who yield. Those who touch any women or children will be personally handled by me. Hurry, gather your men for battle. Tonight we take the Twins, tomorrow we cross that bridge to free Riverrun."

* * *

A/N: I told you it would be soon lol. Again tell me what you guys think. I have been completely blown away by the response to this story and greatly appreciate all of your support. Until next time!


	35. Jon VII

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Jon

The smell of rabbit filled his nose, the scent strong beneath the moss and mud and water. He had traveled far to get here, hunger causing him to chase the scent of rabbit and deer close to the river. The sky was dark and tick with cloud, he could sense the rain coming. The river was green, and full of floating things.

He turned toward the river deciding that he would take some water before he continued on to find the rabbit. As he came closer to the river, the faint smell of something else filled his senses though. He lowered his head to drink the water, it was cool on his tongue but it was refreshing and he would have been ready to go but the familiar smell grew stronger.

He looked up and paused, staring across the river hoping to see what he could smell. He looked closer and joy took over. It was faint, he could barely see it unless he really tried, but he could not mistake those yellow eyes for anything else, he is pack. It was his brother.

He took off, going upstream, his eyes trained on the wolf across the river as his brother mirrored his motions, both desperately trying to reunite. They both finally reached the fork in the river, the spot where it almost became impossible to see each other when they stopped, realizing that they would not be reunited this day.

Sadness filled him. What he wouldn't give to run through the woods, to chase, to hunt with his brother. His brother howled, it was long and full of sorrow. He lifted his head to respond, but he remembered he was silent and no sound came out. His brother saw him though, he was sure of it.

His brother howled again, but it wasn't sad anymore. It was full of anger, full of aggression, of hate. His brother took off then and he followed as close as possible back down the river. He ran with his brother, on opposite banks of the river, both not stopping until they reached two identical towers of stone.

His brother howled again, the same as before. He was angry, he was aggressive, he wanted to attack. He understood completely now. He threw his head back again, still no sound coming out but he knew his brother would understand. If his brother wanted to attack, to tear the stone down piece by piece, then he would be on the other side, making sure none escaped.

His brother howled again, this time it was full of love and hope. They would see each other soon he knew. They would reunite and be able to run and hunt together…. But first they must take the stone. When his brother turned away from the river bank and ran in the opposite direction, he paused there for a moment, making sure that he wasn't going to come back. After making sure he was gone, he turned around too, running toward the forest to the north west.

When morning came, he found he had a strange visitor in his tent. He knew he was safe, Ser Arthur would never allow anyone close that wished him harm, but it was still odd, knowing that he was being watched while he was sleep.

The man was small and wore a shirt of bronze scales. He wielded a three-pronged spear that he leaned on heavily with a leather shield strapped over the green cloak across his back.

"You know," he croaked, his voice throaty. "the books in my library talk of the wolf dreams of the Starks of old. I never thought I would get to see one up close. Tell me, what did you dream of."

"My brother," Jon responded. "He was across the river. He howled at me, he was angry and led me to the twins. I think he means to attack."

The man nodded. "Then I am afraid our time together will be much shorter that I had hoped. Forgive me your majesty, I have forgotten my courtesy's. My name is Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch."

The black lizard-lion embroidered on a patch on his shoulder should have given it away, but Jon didn't pay much attention to that when he first woke up. "You knew my mother." It was the first thing that came to him.

Lord Reed smiled. "I did. You look like her you know. Those who don't know your mother would say you look like Lord Stark, but you are your mother's son."

"What can you tell me about her?" he asked trying not to sound desperate.

"I could have told you everything I knew about your mother if we had more time but you must rise, and tell Ser Arthur what you have dreamed if you are to help your brother. You all will need to ride soon if you are to reach the Twins in time."

"Please," Jon said. "Anything."

Lord Reed laughed and began to talk. "I once attended a great tourney at Harrenhall where three squires, younger but much bigger than me bullied me and tried to take my personal things. My only weapon was this same spear I use now. I was thrown too the ground, kicked at and mocked. I was embarrassed, and for a moment it seemed like the attacks would never end until suddenly they did. Your mother saved me from the boys. She beat on them with a tourney sword and shouted indignantly that I was her fahter's bannerman and must be treated with respect. After she chased them away, she made sure I had a tent to sleep in and that everyone knew I was an honored guest of house Stark. Nobody messed with me after. That was the type of woman your mother was."

Jon was silent for a moment, pausing to take all the information that Lord Reed had told him, to burn it to his memory for as long as he lived. "She was brave and loyal," Jon remarked.

"Braver than any man I knew, and more loyal too," Lord Reed responded. "She would even go on and force the knights of those squires to teach them lessons in manners and respect."

Jon sighed. "That doesn't seem like the type of person who would run away and forsake her duties."

"Nobody is perfect," Lord Reed responded. "We all have our flaws and so did your mother…. but we can't change those flaws, we can only learn from them."

"Some flaws are fatal," Jon said sadly.

"Which means that the only lesson to be learned from them are from those who survive. Your mother was brave, kind, and loyal to those who were loyal to her. If a man could take those traits and be half as committed to them as your mother was then they would be remembered in the pages of history forever."

"I will try," Jon responded, smiling at the small man.

"I hear that you already have it in you. I know that you look like her, and Ser Arthur has told me that you sometimes behave as she used to as well when you get angry. Otherwise, he says you are all Lord Stark which isn't a bad thing. I know Lord Stark may seem strange sometimes, but that is what happens when you are touched by the old gods like he was."

"Touched by the old gods?" Jon responded.

"A story for another time," Lord Reed responded. "Now get up. You must go and tell Ser Arthur what you have dreamed. Ride hard and fast. Slow down for nothing. You must make it to the Twins before your brother attacks or the late Lord will escape and that would not be good."

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, and I suppose you could say it is filler, but I think its some nice story building. Not much to say about this one. What happens next should be obvious. Hopefully I can get it out soon for you guys! Until next time!


	36. Robb IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Robb

He was surprised how dry his gray colored steel plated amour kept him. It was a dark and gloomy night, and the rain tapped his shoulders lighting making an eerie sound clanking against the metal plates all around him. Underneath he had worn a quilted tunic made of leather, dyed yellow to match Grey Wind's eyes. His roundels had been forged in the shape of a running gray direwolf, the background colored white to match his coat of arms. His cloak, white as snow, had been embroidered with the howling form of his direwolf.

He looked every part of the commander his men thought him to be. Inside was a different story… The feeling in the pit of his stomach made him feel sick. He was nervous. His army was standing, waiting for him to give the order to march to battle, waiting for the carnage to begin. There would be no knights charging into battle on this night. The horses would be too spooked around the giants. Part of him didn't want to give the order, hoped even that the Frey's would see his army at their front gates and surrender… It wasn't meant to be. He gave Ser Stevron his orders. He hadn't gotten a response.

He hoped that that the gods would be kind, that the rain would falter a bit so that they had more visibility, but the hour of the bat had started to wane so it was now or never. The assault on the twins was supposed to be quick. It would be tough on his men, but they were of the north so they would endure as they always did. He looked down at Grety Wind to his right, then Lyarra to his left and nodded.

The two wolves padded forward and let out a howl that he was sure could be heard through out the river lands. He took a deep breath, put the decorated horn that his uncle Benjen had given him and blew on it, long and hard.

The sound it made sounded violent, yet somehow seemed perfectly in tune with the beat of the drums the squires and young boys were banging, and the rain that clanked against the steel of men. It was a song of the north, of home. Nothing happened for a moment. Maybe the rain had drowned out the sound of the horn, so he placed it on his lips to blow again when he felt it. The ground _moved. _He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Grey Wind looked around, his eyes wide and alert, but he could feel no fear from his wolf… so he would be fearless too.

He would never forget how fast they moved or how big they were. He was sure that a horse of his wolf could outrun them had they possessed the courage, but the speed that the mammoths descended upon the castle was impressive. Naturally he had seen a giant before, they had helped improve the curtain wall of Winterfell when he was younger, but he had never seen a mammoth in person before, let alone run so easily through an open field. There were three mammoths, two giants riding on each one easily, focused on the target ahead.

The giants themselves were all hair and fur but he was surprised to see how well armed they were. His uncle Benjen believed that they should be able to roam free as any man, and it was obvious that they used their time wisely. They wore weaved leather to cover there torsos and heads while their clubs seemed to be made of small trees. He doubted that even without the amour, an archer would find a hard time piercing their fur with a normal arrow. It was clear that it would take a lot to take down the giants.

Behind them, the first wave of foot soldiers followed. They were led Tormund, a free folk man that settled in Moat Cailin and helped Uncle Benjen train his men. It had taken a lot of convincing from his Uncle and his mother to stop him from leading the first wave, but in the end it made sense to Robb. The Benjen had trained had fought with and against giants before. It would be safest for them to go first. He didn't need any of his men trampled due to eagerness.

They chased behind the giants slow and steadily, their movements and formation narrow so they would be masked by the charging mammoths. He barely saw the volley of arrows aimed at the giants from the top of the walls, but he could see that giants life wooden shields made of logs and tree bark to deflect most of them easily. The few that did slip pass their defenses didn't seem to effect the giants at all. They just kept on charging.

He took a deep breath. They had almost reached the portcullis which meant that it was his time to charge. The plan had been simple. Once the giants had reached front gate they would life the portcullis and smash down the front door, letting Tormund's men in to begin clearing the barbican and start moving through the castle swiftly so that they could take the bridge and catch anyone trying to escape and fortify the second castle.

That was his biggest fear. He was afraid that once the first castle fell, the people in the second castle would flee. They had every reason too and Robb didn't have a way of stopping them. At least he didn't think he did… there was one small hope, but he knew he couldn't depend on that unless it happened.

For now, though he had to focus on the present. If some of them escaped then so be it, the realm would know what side they stood on and they would be named traitors of Riverun once he freed it. The signal that told him that they had reached the gates of the Twins finally blasted through the air, interrupting his thoughts.

He immediately lifted Ice, pointed it forward and yelled, "charge!" Her ran forward, feeling the ground shake of the men running behind him, his wolves slightly in front of him clearly slowing their own pace to stay with him. He was so focused on the gate house, though did notice something happening on the bridge. Either he underestimated Tormund and the giants or something had went horribly wrong. He quickly prayed to his old gods for success and pushed forward toward the castle.

When he entered, the castle smelled of death and blood took over his senses. He looked around and immediately concerned. These halls would too short, too narrow for the giants to fit. He hadn't seen them sense before he charged. They obviously had done their duty, but he was growing quite concerned how empty the halls actually were. He saw the odd servant, woman and child, but they mostly just knelt and begged for mercy.

As he climbed the stairs to reach the level of the castle the bridge was on, the smell of death and blood grew stronger still. It was an awful smell that almost made him gag. What the hell had happened? He pushed open the giant doors that led to the bridge and his jaw dropped. Frey bodies lay in great numbers across stone. It would be hard to step around them. At the end of the bridge, he could see men rushing into the second castle but the giants, six of them, had been standing, screaming at the top of their lungs. Their cry was victorious. The battle had been won.

It had taken hadn't taken him long to gather his war counsel in the great hall of the western castle. The doors opened and Tormund walked in, beard full of blood, a crazy look in his eyes but a huge grin on his face. "Hail to the Young Wolf!" he shouted meerily. "Your wits and cunning have given birth to a great victory on this night."

"You played no small part Tormun Giantsbane," Robb responded. "My uncle was right to console me to trust you. You have done a great deed for my house, for my family. Name your price, and you shall have it."

"Give me ale and mead and food," Tormund said. "Give me more battles to fight in like the one we fought today. Allow me to test my strength against the will of these southerners and watch them fall. Its all I ask. Your father did my people a great favor letting use south, and your uncle had given me a home with all the things I love. You believe it the walkers, so I cannot ask much more. If this is what it takes, fighting this war so that one day I might be able to travel beyond the wall again safely, then so be it. Take me home. I will not ask more of you."

"I appreciate you all the same," Robb responded with a grateful nod. "Care to tell me what happened? I didn't expect it all to happen so fast."

"Cowards the lot of them," Tormund replied quickly after a great laugh. "As soon as they saw the volley had no effect on Mag Mar and his giants, most of them ran. They stopped firing and ran toward the bridge. Mag Mar is smart though and he didn't let them escape. They ran in the water towards the bridge and climbed it. Stopped them before they could even begin to cross, three of them holding off the men trying to cross the bridge, the other three deflecting arrows from the middle tower. It wasn't a fair fight really. The first wave of them backed into our waiting swords. Some of them tried to be brave and turned to try to fight us, others tried to run in between the giants with little success. Some did escape, lucky bastards."

"Did we take any prisoners?" Robb asked, starting to grow worried. He knew that if they killed everybody it reflect poorly on his house.

"Your mother told me we would be looking for an old man," Tormund said. "I found quite a few, but none claiming to be the man she told us about. We did find some who claimed to be his sons and all of the women who claim to be his daughters. I'm not good with numbers so you will need to ask someone else."

His uncle Benjen spoke up. "From what I have gathered, we have killed most of the Frey forces while loosing very little in comparison. If we count the women, children and the men we captured we have little over two hundred captured. The rest of them escaped and unfortunately Lord Walder was among them. We have not finished searching either castle so hopefully he will be somewhere hiding here. We did find a lot of his sons though including Ser Stevron and his son Ryman. His second son Emmon escaped, but we got his son Walder, and his son Emmon."

Robb sighed, he had hoped to catch Walder and present him to his grandfather for justice but this would have to do.

"Uncle Brynden take your scouts and see if you can find them, I don't want any word reaching anybody outside of this castle, especially Tywin Lannister," Robb commanded. He turned to Domeric. "Lord Bolton, I need you to take men and secure the castle. Make sure that those hiding are captured alive if we can."

Grey Wind interrupted him just as he was about to give the rest of his commands. He jumped to his feet, ears up, eyes alert as he looked toward the door, a low whine escaping his throat. Lyarra stood up too, although she was not as tense as her child.

The doors opened and his hand immediately reached for Ice, before his could feel the muscles in his face breaking into a grin. He smiled and laughed happily.

"I think you have some runaways Stark," his brother, Jon Snow said as he pushed a roped and gagged Walder Frey through the doors and on his knees. Ser Arthur walked behind him. They had some of his sons bonded as well. Ghost ran forward and clashed with Grey Wind in the middle of the hall. Lyarra gave out a low warning growl and they stopped immediately. Robb laughed again.

"I saw the giants on the bridge," Jon said in awe. "Did you actually use them in battle?"

"Father told me not to trust the Frey's," Robb responded easily. "It was the only way I could think of to take the castle quickly but how did you know we would attack? How did you know to be waiting."

Robb knew the answer. He just wanted to confirm it. Jon paused and looked at him. "I think you know brother." Robb nodded. There were somethings better left unsaid.

"Remove his gag," Robb gave the instructions to Jon but it was Ser Arthur who stepped forward and let the old man's voice free.

"Mercy," Walder Frey begged. "Please have mercy."

"I offered you mercy," Robb spat. "I gave your son my orders, and you ignored them. You thought your castle could not be taken but you, like many others below the neck, do not understand the true power of the North. We have united as one and that includes all men and woman of Northern blood included the giants. I will not take your head today Lord Frey. My grandfather will punish you for not answering his call. Let your tale be caution to all those who would turn traitors against my family, whether that be a Stark of Winterfell or a Tully of Riverrun."

"What will happen to me, to my sons…" Lord Frey responded.

"I would wipe out your entire line if we up to me," Robb growled, feeling more and more rage as he looked at the man. "For now your sons will be held captive until my grandfather decides what to do with you, or they learn a tough lesson about loyalty and respect from my uncle before they take the black."

He turned again to Domeric. "Lord Bolton," he paused. "Place him in his dungeons for the night before you clear the castles."

"At once my lord," Domeric responded, moving forward with his men and gagging the old man again before walking him toward the giant doors.

"Domeric," Robb called out and paused. When he spoke again he felt his voice grow colder and he snarled, "Don't take too much skin."

Domeric laughed. Robb knew that Domeric would not actually flay Lord Frey as flaying had been outlawed in the North, Walder Frey, however, did not know that if the wet spot on his breeches was anything to go by.

Ser Arhur glared at him. "Win with grace," he spoke quietly but sternly, ever the teacher. Robb nodded, but he could not take back his words, the damage had been done.

"What is next for us brother," Jon called out once Walder had been led from the hall.

"Next we free Riverun," Robb responded, suddenly a burst of confidence filling his chest.

* * *

A/N: The battle of the Twins. I hope I didn't disappoint. I realized early on that this would be from Robb's POV which meant that we really couldn't get into much action. To be quite frank, it would be stupid for some one of Robb's stature to participate on the front lines of a battle like this, especially when he has never battled with giants before. I think here I was able to show their power and hopefully gave a realistic rendition of what would happen when men met what they thought to be fairy tales. Most of them ran, but it allowed them to be trapped...

I don't know who is next, but hopefully it is soon. Until then, thank for every review, like, follow, message, everything. I'll see you all soon.


	37. Ned VIII

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Eddard

Renly had insisted he be dressed in the finest cloth man could purchase for the coronation feast. The coronation itself was an interesting affair, held in the castle sept said by his Tyrell host to only be rivaled by the Great Sept of Baelor and the Starry Sept. He considered himself a mostly honest man, so he would admit that it was impressive, the rows of stained-glass windows honoroing Garth Greenhand and the Seven shining prettily in the mid morning light, but nothing could ever beat the calmness of a godswood.

"My lord?" Theon and Jory were at his side, both dressed in steel-plated amour as if they were southern knights, but the steel was forged in the North and there was no doubt whose men they were, not that the Tyrell's didn't try. They were ambitious lot. Sometimes he felt that they were too ambitious. It was too late now, and if it became a problem he would deal with it later. "Will you be changin?" Theon asked. "I laid out the doublet King Renly picked for you. On your bed. For the feast."

Ned sighed. The Tyrells were nothing but numbers. They would rather be festive and throw tournaments then take action. They were the type to play all sides and only commit when it became obvious there would be a winner. They had the done the same thing during Robert's Rebellion. While Storm's End was Robert's home, taking it would not have effected the war at all. If Rhaegar had an extra 100,000 men in the Riverlands? That would have effected the war.

"Very well, Theon," he finally spoke. "Le us go make me festive. I do not wish to stay for long."

"I would be surprised if you did," Jory responded and Ned nodded. His men knew him, and he them.

"Any word from the North?" Ned asked. They had entered the room he had been provided by then. Theon and Jory entering the room with him while the others stayed outside to guard the door.

"Nothing new, my lord," Jory responded. "We have not gotten word since we learned Lord Robb has marched the armies south of the Neck."

Ned frowned. "He ought to have reached the Twins by now. They will be a problem. I do hope he has taken my advice not to treat with Lord Walder."

Theon studied him for a moment. "From everything you have taught us, it is not likely that Lord Frey let our armies cross without his due."

"Aye," Ned responded with a worried smile, "which is why I told him not to negotiate. I told him if Walder Frey did not give him that bridge and pledge him men to his cause, that he was to take the Twins. No doubt that Lord Hoster Tully has called for their support. If Lord Walder Frey has refused, then he is a traitor, and the North does not negotiate with traitors."

Theon opened his mouth but closed it quickly. This time it was Ned's turn to study. He wanted to say something. "Jory, leave us," he said softly and waited for him to be gone before he spoke again. "You wonder what advise I would give my son about your father." It was a statement, not a question but they both knew.

"You speak of honor, of loyalty, of justice," Theon began, "I know you believe that none of those words apply to my father."

"I don't have reason to believe that they do," he responded simply, "but for your sake I will send an envoy to your father. I will give him a chance to join us in this fight. I hope that we will be able to sway him to join our cause."

Theon gulped. "And if he refused? If he turned his ships north to attack your home?"

Ned looked sharply at him. He knew what the boy asked of him, but it wasn't that simple. "Our home," Ned decided to correct him. "You have almost spent as many years in the North as you have the Iron Islands."

Theon paused and ignored him. Instead he spoke slowly, feat in his voice. "Would you take my head? For my fathers crimes?"

"I've held you in my home since you were one and ten," Ned responded. "You do annoy my lady wife from time to time, but she loves you. My children, Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Arya, they love you. You and Jon have even come to an understanding. Robb is your best friend. Watching the two of you was like watching a younger version of myself and Robert running through the Vale…."

There was truth to that… but Robb was not Eddard and Theon was far from Robert. Still, Theon looked up at him, waiting for a true answer, his eyes misty with unshed tears. Ned didn't want Robb to ever feel the pain of betrayal by a best friend. He would do what it took to make sure Theon remained his man…. Always.

"My men would say that I lost my wits. They would beg me to do it. Justice would grant me the right to do it, but I look at you and can not help but see a child of my own. A wolk with a Kraken stitched into his doublet. Would I take you head? Would I take Robb's? Would I take Jon's? I've grown to care about you too much. Call it a weakness. Call it whatever you like. I once told my friend that you cannot blame the babe fro the crimes of his father. I will not blame the man either."

Theon smiled at him and nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

"If this all works out, one day you with be Lord of the Iron Islands," Ned added. "Robb will be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. With your friendship, I hope to bring about real change in the relationship between our people for generations to come. I just need you to continue to be loyal and trust me."

"I will," Theon, his face not hiding his determination. Ned then took the time to inspect his new doublet, the one that Renly picked out. It was laid on his bed, gray velvet with padded shoulders and puffed sleeves slashed to show the blue satin underlining. Next to it was a familiar golden pin. It looked ridiculous. He would feel even more ridiculous wearing it.

"You can stay as long as you wish tonight," Ned told him. "Do not get yourself into any trouble, and I still expect for you to be awake for our morning spars."

"I won't be late," Theon responded with a nod. He quickly changed his clothes and gathered his men to walk to the hall. Some guest had gone inside already to find their places on the benches. Others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the warm weather.

He entered the hall, and the scent of hot bread immediately took over his nose. It was sweeter than any perfume he had ever smelled. How something so simple could be so great was a mystery that had always evaded him, yet it wasn't something he really spent that much time on. He had once laughed when he found out Arya loved bread as much as he did. She once told him that all she wanted for a name day feast was different kinds. Another way they were the same.

His men led him to the high table where he would sit to the right of Renly as his hand of the King and guest of honor. His men left him there, to join there own tables as everyone waited the arrival of the King and his betrothed.

"You look quite ridiculous, Lord Stark," Lady Olenna Tyrell spoke softly, using the noise of the room to drown out their conversation. She smelled of rosewater, and smiled at him with a toothless smile, her cane leaned against the high table. He didn't realize she was there when he first sat down.

Ned smiled at him. "I agree my lady, but I must confess that you only know half of it. Not only do I look quite ridiculous, but I feel it as well…. And it is quite warm in here. I find myself growing more and more homesick by the day. I miss the cold winds and summer snows."

"I knew your father, Lord Rickard, though not well. He once told me something similar as foolish he was. Cold winds and summer snows?" she scoffed at the mere notion. "Still, it was sad to learn how he was killed. No one deserves that. Night falls for all of us in the end, and too soon for some. I think you would know that more than most. It's said you lost your father, sister, and brother during that awful rebellion. I am sorry for your losses."

"I have done my grieving," he responded solemnly. She would never know how much. "Still I choose to instead focus my time on what I have gained. I have sons now. Daughters. Neices. Nephews…." he paused. "I have lost but I've gained so much more."

"You can say that so easily?" Olenna responded. "They just buried your friend, a man who often spoke of you as a brother."

"I can. I loved Robert more than most but even he had his flaws. Still I choose to remember him as best I can. We were boys once, my lady. We rode horses together, fought, together, drank together."

"Yet you freely admit that the King has flaws?" Olenna asked.

"I was the only one who could," Ned laughed. "Who else but me could tell him he was wrong and keep his head? Often he was wrong. You didn't hear this from me, but I had to convince him from sending assassins after the poor Targaryen children in Essos. I fear the realm would be a must worst place if it wasn't for Jon Aaryn as his hand, and then I who replaced him."

"Targaryen's?" Olenna responded. "Surely you hold no love for the lost dragons."

Ned smiled tightly. "They are children, half a world away. I don't condone the killing of children. A child's father could be perceived my worst enemy, accused of doing horrible things to me or my family, yet I could not blame the child. Children are innocent."

"Rhaegar raped your sister." she said slowly, her words sharp and pointy. "Yet the way it is told, you were upset when the bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys were presented."

"That is how it is told," Ned responded. "Still, Aegon and Rhaenys, they were innocent. I will grieve any innocent life lost."

Olenna laughed. "You really are as honorable as they say you are."

He smirked at her. "It depends on who you ask. If you asked my lady wife? I'm the most honorable man in the realm. Others might tell you different."

Olenna looked at him sharply, and studied him for a long time. Before she could open her mouth to say something again, the doors burst open and Renly and Margaery rode into the throne room on matched white chargers. Pages ran before them, scattering rose petals under their hooves. His rainbow guard, led by Loras Tyrell escorted them to their seats at the head of the table. Ned rose, as did everyone else who was seated, until the two sat down and gave permission for the hall to be seated.

"Let the cups be filled!" Renly proclaimed. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of wine into the golden chalice that Lord Tyrell had given him that morning. He used both hands to lift it. "To my future wife and queen!"

"_Margaery!_" the hall shouted back at him. A thousand cups ran together, and this normally would have signaled the start of the coronation feast, but Renly wasn't done talking.

"I know it not quite traditional," he spoke, his voice cracked and Eddard could tell he was about to say something emotional, "but tonight, the first dish we shall feast on is boar! You see boar was the animal that killed my brother, the former King, and today we shall dine on it as I know he would have wished for us to. For my brother, Robert. May he rest peacefully!"

"_King Robert!_" the hall shouted again, some more rowdy than before. Ned sighed into his cup. Renly had just gotten started. It would be a long night.

* * *

A/N: Another one bites the dust. This one was pretty straight forward. Here we see Renly's coronation which doesn't show up in the books or movies I don't think. Still I did take some of this feast and structure from it from King Joffrey's wedding feast. Also the quote about night coming for us all is directly from a Sansa chapter in Storm of Swords. Its one of my favorite quotes from the books. Edited it to make it fit here obviously.

On another note, I know some people have been complaining about the length of chapters. So far I've committed to follow the books structure which follows one POV per chapter... If you guys want I can switch to mutiple POV's. I just have to figure out how to make it jump from scene to scene nicely.

Anyways, as always thank you guys for all the feedback. I love it!

Until next time!


	38. Tyrion IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Tyrion

Tryion had never seen so many eagles in one place at one time before. They circled above his fathers army, almost like they were watching them before they circled, flapped their powerful wings and headed back north. It was such a strange oddity, but they were just birds. He didn't think it was possible for Robb Stark to use birds as spies….

His mind had begin to drift again, thinking of the dark haired beauty that had mounted him again last night, after mounting him the night before. He himself had been well rested and well fed. He woke up late that morning, and gotten a great deal on food in his stomach and they had plenty of time to arrange themselves in formation for battle before word reached them that the Stark army was less than a mile north, forming up a battle array.

So far, his father had been wrong about Robb Stark. He had been expecting to face a boy, eager to battle, that would rush and make mistakes. "I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to steal a night's march on us," his father had said. "Make sure we are prepared," his father spoke to his Uncle Kevan.

It was a meaningless conversation now. His men would be just a rested as he felt right now. It seemed as if Robb Stark was not underestimating Tyrion's father, although it was obvious the same could not be said for Lord Tywin. Robb Stark was taking his time.

He knew that his Uncle Ser Kevan Lannister would lead the center. Ser Kevan had archers that arrayed themselves into three long lines to the east and west of the road. Between them, pikeman formed squares; behind were men with spear and sword and axe. Three hundred heavy horse surrounded Ser Kevan and the lords bannerman, Lydden, and Serrett with all thier sword retainers.

The right wing was all cavalry, some four thousand men, heavy with the weight of their armor. More than three quarters of the knights were there, massed together. Ser Addam Marbrand had the command.

His father took his palce on the hill where they had slept. Around him, the reserve assembled; a huge force, half of them mounted, half of them on foot. They were five thousand strong. Lord Tywin almost always chose to command the reserve; he would take the high ground and watch the battle below, so that he could see where his men were best needed.

The van had already been locking into formation on the left. The standard flew high above the field, his father had placed him under the command of Lord Leo Lefford. He was pointing men into position with his blade, shouting and giving out orders. He caught sight of Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, take the left. Hold the river!"

The left of the left. To turn their flank, the Starks would need horses that could run on water. Tyrion led his men toward the riverbank. "Look," he shouted, pointing with his axe. "The river. That river is ours. Whatever happens, keep close to the water. Never lose sight of it. Let no enemy come between us and our river. If they dirty our waters, hack off their coks and feed them to the fishes."

"Halfman," Shagga had shouted, an axe in either hand and other mountain men picked up the cry, yelling and shouting. Tyrion ignored it all, turning his courser in a circle to look over the field. He watched as Lord Lefford rode up and down the line, shouting and giving out his final command. This wing too was all cavalry, but where the right was a miled fist of knights and heavy lancers, the vanguard was made up of the sweepings of the west.

"Crow food," Bronn muttered beside him, giving voice to what Tyrion had left unsaid. He could only nod. He didn't understand what his father was doing. There were no pikes, too few bowmen, a bare handful of knights, commanded by a man who wasn't known for his penchant for battle strategy. How could his father expect this travesty of a battle to hold his left?

The drums of the north, they were so near it broke him from his thoughts. Bronn, preparing for battle, drew his longsword, and suddenly, he could see the enemy before them and it appeared they appeared to be about to boil over the tops of the hills…. Only they stopped right at the peaks and formed a shield wall. They didn't move.

Robb Stark wasn't as rash as his father thought. The boy knew he had the advantage of the hills, and it looked like he would hold them. A warhorn blew, its voice as long and low and chilling as a cold wind from the north. The Lannister trumpets answered, brazen and defiant. He could feel the nervousness in the pit of his stomach, a quesy feeling and he hoped he was not getting sick.

As the horns died away, a hissing filled the air, a vast flight of arrows arched up from his right, where the archers stood flanking the road. The northerners did not move, and allowed the arrows being shot from downhill, clank uselessly against their shield wall.

Another horn blew from the northern side, this one a different note, and when Tyrion looked toward the skies, his eyes widened in fear. Hundreds of arrows, no thousands, fell on them from the top of the hill like hail, and he could hear the shouts and screams of the men in the center who had been stuck. By then, a second flight was in the air, the northerners firing away from the spot at the top of the hill where they held advantage.

The trumpets blared again. Lord Lefford pointed his sword forward and shouting a command, and a thousand other voices screamed back at him. Tyrion put his spurs to his horse and added his voice to the others. "The River! He shouted at his clansmen as they rode. He was still leading when they broke a canter, until Chella gave a bloodcluring shriek and galloped past him. Suddenly all the clansman charged after her, leaving Tyrion in the dust.

A wall of enemy spearmen had formed at the top of the hill, their steel point downhill behind tall oak shields with the sunburst of Karstark. Half of the horses shied at the last second, breaking their charge before the row of spears. The others died, sharp steel points ripping through their chest. He saw a dozen men go down. He could hear the yells and screams of Lannister men as they ran into the wall. The northern wall at the top of the hill had held.

"Fuck," Tyrion breathed. He heard another shout from Lord Lefford. "Retreat!" back down the hill. Tyrion was confused. He hadn't even reached the wall yet, not that he had wish to. Was this his father's plan? Had he wanted his left flank to crumble and destroyed? Was this all just apart of an elaborate trap?

Before he knew what was happening, he could see both horses and men turning around to run back down the hill. He had half expected the mountain clans to stay, and continue to try to fight through the wall, but even they had realized how foolish it was. He too turned he horse, he didn't see a reason to needlessly die today.

He turned his head, expected the Stark army to be chasing the retreating Lannister men back down the hill, but he was wrong. By the time they had gotten to the bottom of the hill the Lannister trumpets had sounded again, but this time they were paired with shouts of retreat. From the tops of the hills he could hear the cheers and shouts of the north. They did not chase them, but stood disciplined at the top of the hill. His father was wrong. Robb Stark had not been as green as he had assumed.

Night had fallen when he had found his father in his tent surrounded by his generals. His face had been twisted into a scowl his uncle Kevan spoke. "The Stark armies have marched back up the Kingsroad. It looks like they march back toward the Twins."

"That doesn't make sense," Tyrion spoke up, drawing attention to his entering of the tent. "They were winning why would they retreat."

"They were winning because your wild men lacked discipline. I knew they would break," his father scoffed at him.

"I'm glad it did not disappoint you, Father," Tryion responded. "Although, I'm sure it did not come as a great surprise. It had become very obvious that you expected us to lose."

"Yes," his father admitted but there was no remorse in his voice, only ice. "I put the least disciplined men on the left, yes. I knew your savages would not hold. I expected Robb Stark to send his men charging after you, eager for a rout. Once he was fully committed, Ser Kevan's pikes would wheel and take him in the flank, driving him into the river while I brought up the reserve."

"Some much for being more brave than wise," Tywin responded, but the anger in his father's eyes as he stared at him told him it was enough.

"The Stark boy proved more cautious than I expected for one of his years," Lord Tywin admitted sourly. If it weren't for the circumstances, Tyrion might have shouted with gleee... "Though I still did not see these giants you spoke of."

Tyrion sighed. How lucky they had been.

An urgent shout of "Lord Tywin!" tuned his father's head as Ser Addam Marbrand entered the tent. Ser Addam dropped to one knee, he was armored in burnished bronzed steel with the fiery tree of his House etched black on his breastplate. "My liege, a raven arrived just now and brought us a letter."

"Who is it from?" Lord Tywin asked.

Ser Addam hesitated. "Benjen Stark. He says that his nephew what you to know that Ser Jamie Lannister sends his regards."

Tyrion, closest to the man, snatched the note a frown forming on his face. Ser Addam did not lie. A green boy, Tyrion remembered. He would have laughed, but knew better than press his luck more than he already had today.

* * *

A/N: The battle of the Green Fork! A short one, I know but let us go through it? Yes! I started this battle with Eagles. With Benjen having gained the allegiance of the Free Folk I hope what happened there and at the end with the Raven is obvious. I imagine Orell had something to do with that...

Now the battle itself. While Roose Bolton may not have decided to betray the North yet at this point in the books, its clear that he was setting it up so that he had less opposition if he chose that route. Sending men charging down a hill to attack Calvary makes zero sense. It ultimately leads to loses and the capturing of important people that could have been avoided. Roose Bolton is dead here. Benjen is in charge and he knows that its all about giving Robb time. Roose marched over night, technically causing Robb to lose a day. Benjen took his time, meaning instead of taking forth the day after Tyrion is told he would ride in the Van, it happens two days later which again gives Robb more time.

As for the battle itself. I believe it is the battle of the hastings, in which the Norman forces try to fire arrows uphill and fail, and then try to charge their foot and horse up hill and again failed. The difference here, is that the English charged after the Normans which would lead to their eventual defeat when Harold died and their ranks broke. Here the north is more disciplined. They have a plan, which is to give Robb time, and Benjen is smart enough (again the eagles) to see what Tywin's plan is.

Anyway, once again I can't help but appreciate all the love and support for this story! Please keep it going and let me know what we think! Jon is next I think and I can guarantee it will be a long one. Whispering woods, Riverrun, and some wolf dreams I think!

Until then!


	39. Jon VIII

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Jon

Jon sighed, his voice dry and body tired, but his mind was fully awake. If everything went right, by the same time the next night, they would have the Kingslayer in chains, but, just like the night before the Mountain fell, he couldn't sleep. He was restless. So he did what helped him before. He found a hidden spot, told Ghost to stand guard, and took out a rag to polish Dark Sister while the egg he found sat in his lap, warm as the day Ghost found it.

He had been thinking about a lot lately. About Arya and Sansa, who he thanked the old gods and new for them being safe back home. Robb told him they were safe before they left the Twins, and he couldn't have been happier. They would be safe there, no one could touch them…. But he also thought of others. Of Aegon and Rhaeny's. Ser Arthur told him he had an uncle Viserys and an aunt Daenerys who were stranded in Essos. He couldn't help but feel bad for them, how unfortunate it must be to live a life on the run, all because a man hated another over a woman that didn't love him. It was a tragedy.

He didn't think often of his parents… not his real ones at least. He would not tell anyone, especially not Ser Arthur, but he couldn't help but blame them. How could he not, they were so stupid all they had to do is say something. Sure Robert would still likely have been upset, but they might still be alive. His sister, his brother might still be alive. He knew the love he held for Robb and Arya, and it easy to imagine that it would have been the same for Aegon and Rhaenys, and even Daenerys and Viserys too. They wouldn't have had to run away.

"You're my blood, that is all that matters," he could hear his father's voice in his head. Jon couldn't deny that. He knew how to be a Stark of Winterfell, was being a dragon all that different? He sighed again. He knew that when this got out, his great secret, people would expect him to behave a certain way, but he was of the North. That would not be forgotten.

Ghost rose from his position in the grass, and that quickly got his attention. When they both saw the pair of yellow eyes poking out from beyond the bush, Ghost settled back down and Grey Wind joined him.

"Please tell me that I have not disturbed your peace," Robb rushed from the bushes with a slight bow but Jon could see the grin on his face.

Jon played along and sighed, "I could have you executed for this slight against me you know."

Robb laughed and sat down next to him. "What are you doing up this late?"

"I can't sleep."

"Aye," Robb responded with a sigh of his own. "Neither can I." He paused for a moment. "I went to your tent to find you, but you weren't there so Grey Wind led the way."

"Smart, aren't they?" Jon responded, scratching Ghost between his ears.

"It's scary sometimes," Robb responded. "Was that you across the riverbank before the Twins?"

"Aye," Jon responded.

Robb nodded. "I thought so, I couldn't be sure, but I just had this feeling... Can you control it?"

"No," Jon said. "It's just random dreams here and there. I think father might have known about it though. Since they arrived in Wintefell, he has always told us to stay close and listen to them, that they would be our greatest assets."

"He wasn't wrong," Robb said. "I was talking to one of the Free Folk, Orell I think his name was, he was telling me about how he could see through the eyes of his eagle. There are a couple of them that can just do it freely. I wanted one of them to come with us, but uncle Benjen said he would need them to face Lord Tywin Lannister. I had hoped they could teach us."

"There is still time," Jon responded, letting hope feel his voice.

Robb nodded again, and for a moment, it was nice to sit side by side, brother by brother and look up at the stars. Robb broke the silence again, pointing to Dark Sister. "Have you gotten to use it yet?"

"Not in real battle, no," Jon responded. "Ser Arthur got me a longsword similar in length, but way heavier. When I am alone at night like this, where I can swing freely with it, my movement just feels so quick."

"I know the feeling," Robb said. "Remember when we were younger and father let us pick up Ice? We both thought it would be so heavy, that we wouldn't be able to life it so we tried it together?"

Jon laughed. He remembered it well. They both took hold the hilt, hands overlapping each other, and gave the greatest heave they could. They lifted it easily well above there little heads, and then dropped it in shock when it lifted so easily. Their father laughed.

"Valyrian Steel," their father said. "The leather of the sheath weighs more because of how big it is but the steel itself? Light like a snow shrike feather."

"Although," Robb said, again bringing him back to the present. "I never got to use Ice at the twins either. By the time I got there, the battle had been won. The giants and free folk captured the Twins."

Jon smiled, "But it is the Young Wolf who the realm will sing songs about."

Robb laughed. "Aye. Hopefully they don't sound too bad."

Jon sighed again, looking to the stars again. "You ever wonder why they call you the Young Wolf? Why am I the White Wolf? Why are we the lucky ones?"

"Lucky?" Robb questioned. "Father would call it a responsibility. Not everybody is responsible enough to wield the name Stark, or Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell, Martell, even Targaryen. History tells us that."

Jon groaned. "Now you're even starting to sound like him."

Robb made a serious face and deepened his voice. "The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

Jon grinned first and Robb started to laugh. He laughed with him. It was nice sitting up late at night talking to his brother again. It almost felt like when they were younger and would sneak in to each others rooms. Jon yawned deep and loudly and it shocked him. When had he gotten so tired?

"Tired?" Robb asked.

Jon nodded. "What about you?"

Robb shook his head and sighed. "Tomorrow weighs too heavy on my mind. What is something goes wrong? What if someone we are close to dies. I know she has just wants to protect us but I would rather it not be so many. How can I look Lord Karstark or the Greatjon in the eyes if one of their sons dies giving thier life for mine? What does it look like to the reach if that Tarly boy takes an arrow met for me?"

"I had similar thoughts the night before we captured the Mountain," Jon said quietly, before pausing. "What is it you said again? Not all men are responsible enough to wield our names? That is why instead of sleep we sit here and think of every outcome, of every man that we could lose. Your bannermen, they are family. It's why it is hard to think of losing even just one."

"Look who sounds like father now," Robb responded, a soft smile on his lips before taking a moment to be serious again. "But you are right. Every man who refuses to throw down their sword, who refuses to yield would just as easily slit our throats as we would them."

Jon nodded, and Robb continued. "I have given orders though. We will not kill any man that yields. We will treat them fairly in hopes that if any one of our men are captured they would be give they same courtesy."

"We are our father's children," Jon replied.

"Brothers," Robb said.

"Always."

* * *

The woods were full of whispers. Moonlight crept through the trees, where there warhorses pawed at the moist, leafy ground, while the men around them tried to calm theme selves with nervous jest in hushed voices. He was on the western ridge with Robb, Ghost, Grey Wind, and Lyarra, waiting for the signal that the Kingslayer would fall into their trap.

Torrhen Karstark and his brother Eddard were among the thirty men that formed Robb's battle guard, although, oddly enough, Ser Arthur had tried to talk Lord Rickard Karstark out of letting them join. "Where better for you sons to be than riding with their father to battle?" Ser Arthur tried. It was odd, but Jon didn't think much of it after Lord Karstark insisted his boys go with Robb,

The rest were made of of other sons of the north and riverlands, with the odd one from somewhere else. Patrek Mallister had joined them as they raced past Seagard, and if the Karstarks had a son protecting Robb then so would the Umbers. Thoros of Myr, Sam Tarly, Grenn and Pyp had also chosen to ride close to them and of course Ser Arthur was never far. It was a strong group, in Jon's opinion, and now all they had to do was wait for the sounds of battle.

Robb had picked an excellent spot for ambush. It was all moonlight and shadows, a thick carpet of dead leaves, the wooded ridged slipping gently enough so that their horses could ride easily down to the stream bed and attack their enemies.

Across the ridge he could see Lady Catelyn staring their way, worry drawn upon her face. "You are important too," she had pulled him aside quietly after Robb's guard had been decided. "You should have a guard too."

"I will guard my brother, and they will guard us. I promise to bring him back to you, my lady," he told her and turned to walk away. She grabbed his shoulder gently, and smiled softly at him.

"Promise that you will both ride back to me."

Robb lifted his sword then, it looked like he saw his mother looking and wanted to give her hope that they would be okay, but by the time he had lowered it, the call of Maege Mormont's warhorn ripped through the night, a long low blast.

Grey Wind and Lyarra, they threw their heads back and howled, loud and vengefully. Ghost threw his head back too, but he was as silent as he always was.

He could hear the answer from the other horns, one from the far ridge, one from the Mailisters who had rode with them, another from the North where the Karstark men laid in wait, all adding to a deep, powerful sound.

"He is no man for stting in a tent while his carpenters build siege towers," Ser Brynden had promised. "He has ridden out with his knights thrice already, to chase down raiders or storm a stubborn holdfast."

In the short time he had know Lady Stark's uncle, he hadn't found him ever to be wrong. Here he was right again. Jamie had fallen right into the trap Robb had set.

The last notes of a trembling horn faded, and quickly were replaced with the sounds of battle. He could hear the wind move with arrows as the archers hidden in the trees let loose at Lannister men. He could hear the sound of horses dying, and men shouting as arrows ambushed them, and their bodies crashed to the dead leaves with loud thuds.

"Winterfell!" Robb shouted, and it was immediately answered back. They were charging down the ridge them, their direwolves out pacing them all, while Robb held Ice and Jon wielded his regular steel sword. Lannister horses were sppoked at the mere sigh of the three direwolves, raccing down the ridge, bucking men from their saddles, leaving them to be trampled and stomped on.

Grey Wind was the fastest wolf and he leap when he was close enough, taking a man off his horse by his throat before he landed and took out the legs of some poor horse that happened to be in the way. By then, Ghost and Lyarra had joined the fray as well, the mere sigh of them ripping into flesh causing some men to immediately beg for mercy. Jon's steel sword sliced through his first man that day right after he watched Ghost easily rip a man's arm off, the speed of his horse pushing the sword easily through a man's chest. He quickly pulled it back and cut down another, and then another.

All around him, he could hear the sounds of battle. The crack of a broken lance, the clash of steel on steel, the cries of Lannister, and Winferfell and Tully and Riverrun. He killed a man to his left and turned in time to see Robb take some poor souls head off with Ice. It was like slicing through bread. He wondered if that is what it would feel like to wield Dark Sister.

He stabbed another man, who fell from his horse and immediately began asking for mercy and his mother. Jon would not kill such a man so he left him be, and immediately sent his horse sprinting for his brother's voice when her heard it shout "To me! To me!"

His brother had been unhorsed, but his guard had quickly reached him in time to form a cirlce around him to protect him. Jon cut down another man trying to get close, and looked up to see Jamie Lannister charging at them, his sword lifted high, cutting down man after man, determined to reach Robb,

Daryn Hornwood, as brave as he boasted to be, reacted first and rode out to try to stop him, Ser Jamie easily parried his attempts to strike and would have cracked young Daryn's skull if Dawn didn't reach out to stop it and Jamie Lannister crumbled under the pressure of the Sword of the Morning.

Before they had known what happened, Jamie Lannister was flat on his back with Dawn pointing at his throat. "This battle is over Kingslayer," Ser Arthur spat. "Tell your men to yield."

* * *

"You're hurt," Lady Catelyn said to Robb when they rode back to her. Robb did so on a different horse. Her face was still full of worry, but she had tears of joy in her eyes as soon as she saw them come over the ridge. She must of saw the blood.

Robb lifted his hand, opened, and closed his fingers. "No," he said. "This is… Torrhen's blood perhaps, or…" he shook his head. "I do not know."

Jon lowered his head and sighed. "The two Karstark boys were wounded in battle. Daryn Hornwood would be dead had not Ser Arthur intervened. They should recover, but it shall take a wile."

Jon could hear the sound of hooves approaching and knew that Robb's men were not far behind. The Greatjon and Lord Rickard lead them and between them they dragged the Kingslayer and threw him down in fron of Lady Stark's horse. "The Kingslayer," Hal announced, unnecessarily.

Lannister raised his head. "Lady Stark," he said, he knees sinking into the muddy dirt. "I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it."

Jon ignored him them, and once he and the rest of the prisoners were locked up. He quickly found his tent, and fell into a blissful sleep.

* * *

He was hungry. He hadn't eaten for hours and the taste of horse flesh was still fresh on his tongue, teasing his stomach. He tried to wake his brother, but he was fast asleep, too tired to hunt with him so he would be alone that night. Well not completely.

He moved quickly and silently through the camp, picking up the scent of a familiar man and following it. The white claw was what he smelled, the one they called Arthur. The man would always feed him scraps and bits of meat, and he hoped that tonight would be the same.

He walked through the camp for a little while longer following the scent the whole way. It led him some thick bushes. He peaked through the bushes, and saw that he did Arthur but he was with another man. The man was in bonds and tied together, trapped by rope and wood.

"It's funny how idols become your rivals," the man, his hair yellow mixed with dirt. "You make friends with Ser Arthur Dayne, but have to try to kill him for your survival."

Arthur, the one with the white claw, didn't seem to like that. "Spare me your useless japes and false courage Jamie. I know you, or I thought I did."

"Embarrassed of me now Ser Arthur? Am I just a Kingslayer to you?"

"Kinglsayer?" Arthur said. "You think I care that you killed that man? I don't care that you killed the man. He was no king to me, not at that point… but Aegon? Rhaenys? Where were you when your father's men butchered them? Where were you when the Mountain bashed Aegon's head against a wall and forced his mother to watch before he raped and killed her? What about when little Rhaeny's was stabbed half a hundred times? Where were you?"

"Where was I?" the one called Jamie responded, his voice raw. "Where were you! I'm the one who sat outside his door and had to listen as he raped the Queen while I was helpless to do nothing. I watched as he burned and killed person after person, based on his own sick whim. I can still smell the burnt flesh! I can still hear the screams! They haunt me and they will forever. Where was I? Ser Arhur Day

ne, where were you?"

"I was following my King's orders," Arthur responded, his cold and so low that he had to lift his ears to hear it.

"The same King who kidnapped and raped the Stark girl?" Jamie responded, just as cold. "The realm claims that you are the one with honor, yet you let your King kidnap and rape some poor innocent girl. I bet you stood there and listened. I grew tired of the madness and did something about it. You stood there and let it happen. You let the realm go to war. We are not the same. You don't get to sit here and pretend that you are any better than me."

Arthur glared at Jamie, studying him for a moment before he sighed and turned to walk away. Jamie wasn't done. "Only that is not how it happened. That fool Eddard Stark would not allow you to serve his house if you sat back and allowed his sister to be treated in such a way. He would have killed you. I would have done the same."

"Lord Stark defeated me," Arthur spoke, his voice still cold but neutral.

"That is the story you tell," the one called Jamie said. "When I was charging at the Stark boy, I noticed something. It is the same thing I noticed in Winterfell. You didn't guard Lord Stark then just as you didn't guard his son today. It wasn't Robb Stark you rose so quickly to defend. You thought the bastard was in danger."

"You know why." It wasn't a question.

"I thought I did. There was rumor that Ned Stark fell in love with your sister at Harrenhall but I only know that because Elia spoke about it. So when you went North with Lord Stark after the war I thought it was because he was your sister's son. That he was your nephew and I thought that until I saw you both in Winterfell. You confirmed it for me today."

Arthur let out a huff and again began to walk away again. Still Jamie was not done and he stood then, his hands bonded behind his back but he managed to struggle to his feet. "You won't say it but I know the truth now. I watched how you protected Rhaegar, how you would get in position when you thought there was a threat. I don't need you to confirm it for me."

"Good night Jamie," Arthur said not bothering to turn around.

"Where was I?" Jamie ignored him and kept talking. "Once King Aery's found out my father had entered the city with his army, he ordered Lord Rossart to ignite the wildfire caches he had spread through the city to burn it down. I killed them both. I was so ashamed that I broke my oath that I didn't think. Before I knew it, Ned Stark had entered the throne room. By the time I got my wits back and thought of the children it was too late."

Ser Arthur turned around and stared at Jamie again, marching back toward him until he was inches from his face. If words could kill. "That's your great excuse? You lost your wits. You should have killed him but then instead of remembering that promise you made to Rhaegar to protect his family, you let them die. On your watch! Aegon and Rhaenys are dead because of your inaction, and that's the best you can give me? You lost your wits?"

Arthur turned again, this time stomping away quickly through the bush.

Jamie Lannister shouted back at him. "You don't think I know that! My mistakes haunt my dream until this day! I was there!" Ser Arthur did not turn back to him again, but Jamie kept yelling. "Who are you to judge me! I was there! Who are you?" his shouts turned to muffled cries and before he knew it, the knight he was shouting at the air.

He couldn't help but feel bad for him. He stared at the man for a long time, and after a while Jamie noticed him staring at him and jumped. He didn't understand why some men jumped when he saw him. He turned and walked away from Jamie then. He was still hungry and he needed to find food.

* * *

A/N: Another one!

I told you guys that Riverun would be included in this, but this felt like such a natural ending that I cut it off. Still this is pretty long by my standards hahaha.

Not much to say about this one.

Let me know what you think!

Untill next time!


	40. Tyrion V

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Tyrion

"They have my son," Tywin Lannister said, his voice was frigid and his fist already had slammed the long wooden table in front of him. If it hurt, his father showed no signs of it, as his face was fixed with anger. Tyrion could sense that men around them were afraid as they should be. Every one of those western Lords has heard The Rains of Castamere.

"They do, my lord." The messenger's voiced pained from exhaustion. His chest heaved in and out, out and in as he tried to catch his breath. He must have ran to the inn with the news, yet Tyrion would bet several gold dragons that he now regretted that decision. His father was livid.

Still, Tyrion couldn't help but notice his father's words. They have my son. Only one of them, he thought, taking a moment to examine the coat of arms of the messenger's surcoat. It was the brindled boar of Crakehall, not that it mattered. What mattered was the blood, his surcoat was stained with. What ever happened to Jamie must have been bloody.

He took a sip of his wine, and said not a word, instead just looking around the room at the faces of his lord father's assembled captains and bannermen. They have quiet, of course, none of them stupid enough to say anything that could worsen his father's mood. The only sound that could be heard was the crackle and hiss of the log burning in the hearth, and the struggled breathing of the messenger.

He had been upstairs, enjoying the comfort of a feather bed and the warmth of Shae's body beside him, when his squire had woken him to say that a rider had arrived with dire news of Riverun.. So it had been all for nothing. The rush south, the endless forced marches, the bodies left beside the road…. Robb Stark had reached Riverrun days and days ago.

A green boy indeed.

"How could this happen?" Ser Harys Swyft was the first brave soul to speak. "How? Even after the Whispering Wood, you had Riverrun ringed in iron, surrounded by a great host… what madness made Ser Jaime decide to split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knew how vulnerable that would leave them."

"You are a brave brave man," Tyrion told him. "Tell me, would you like to keep your head today? I'd reckon you would, yet you seem to have a horrible habit of not watching your tongue. You don't get to question a lion."

For the first time in a long time, his father looked at him with appreciation. It was quick, and the moment was gone faster than what Tyrion would have hoped for, but it happened, and that's all that mattered in the moment.

"I would have done the same," his uncle spoke up. "You have never seen Riverrun, Ser Harys, or you would have held you tongue. Ser Jamie had little choice in the matter. The castle stands at the end point of land were the Tumblestone flows into the Red Fork and the Trident. The rivers form two sides of a triangle, and when danger threatens, the Tullys open their sluice gates upstream to create a wide moat on the third side, turning Riverrun into an island."

"Ser Kevan speakys truly, my lords," the courier said, finally catching his breath."We did everything we could with the amount of time we had but with no warning and the rivers cutting us off from each other it wasn't enough. By the time we heard the howls of the wolves, they had already taken the northern camp and were entering ours."

"Did you not have outriders?" Tyrion asked. "They saw nothing? Gave you no warning?"

"Marq Piper had been raiding our supply trains. We thought he was getting rid of them. The ones who did come back had seen nothing."

"I would suggest that we need new outriders then," his lord father finally spoke, his voice still chilled but he seemed to have calmed a bit. His words were measured, but Tyrion couldn't help but wonder what he truly had wanted to say, because he was sure that wasn't it.

"How could it happen?" Ser Harys Swyft complained again. "Ser Jaime taken, the siege broken… this is a catastrophe."

Ser Addam Marbrand responded. "I am sure we are grateful to you for pointing out the obvious, Ser Harys. The question is, what shall we do about it?"

"What can we do? Jamie's host is all but lost and the Starks and Tullys sit squarely across our line of supply. We are cut off from the west! They can march on Casterly Rock if they so choose, and what's to stop them? My lords, we are beaten. We must sue for peace."

It made a lot of sense, he had to admit. Had Cersei managed to capture Ned Stark, or even his daughters… they would be in a significantly better situation but she had let them slip through her grasp. Surly she saw the signs of him preparing to leave. Surely she sent men after them to find him?

"He is winning," Tyrion swirled his wine thoughtfully before downing the rest of it and softly placing his cup on the table. "He has no reason to negotiate, and Ned Stark as escaped the capital. We have nothing of value to trade for my brother. The boy has no reason to listen to us."

"Perhaps they would consent to a truce, and allow us to trade our prisoners for theirs?" Lord Lefford tried.

"We captured nobody important enough in that farce of a battle we fought. It was a trap, Robb Stark wanted us to engage his uncle Benjen while they advanced on Riverrun. Benjen Stark did exactly what he was supposed to do and we fell for it. We have no one to trade."

"Then we must ransom Ser Jamie, whatever it costs," Lord Lefford responded.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "The Stark's don't need gold. Lord Eddard Stark paid off all of the King's debt's except those he owned the Tyrell'sand us. Robb Stark will not take gold."

"If we ask for a truce, they will think us weak," Ser Addam argued. "We Should march on them at once."

"Surely our friends at court could be persuaded to join us with fresh troops," said Ser Harys. "And someone might return to Casterly Rock to raise a new host?"

His father rose quickly to his feet, his hands gripping the edge of the table. His voice thundered throughout the room. "They have my son," he said once more. "Leave me. All of you."

When he rose to depart with the rest, his father spoke again. "Not you, Tyrion. Remain. And you as well, Kevan. The rest of you, out."

His father waited until the rest of them left before he seated himself again and spoke. "You have the right of it about Stark. If your sister had somehow captured him before he left the city, we might have used Lord Eddard to forge a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun, a peace that would have given us the time we needed to deal with Robert's brothers. Alive and out of our control…" his hand curled into a fist. "Madness."

"Maybe Cersei didn't know," Tyrion suggested, somehow finding himself defending his sister. "It seems like Lord Stark has been fooling the entire realm for years. I truly do wonder what has been going on up in that frozen wasteland we call the North."

"She should have," Lord Tywin responded sharply. As soon as it was obvious that Robert was going to die she should have locked him in that tower. Our spies tell me that his daughters left days before he did. Surly that must have been a sign."

Tyrion nodded, and sipped his wine.

"Our position is worse than you know," his father went on. "It would seem we have a new king."

Tyrion sighed. " I knew Joffery wouldn't last, he's too impulsive, too cruel. What have they done to him?"

His father's eyes narrowed at him and he scowled for a brief second. "Nothing yet. My grandson still sits the Iron Throne, but the eunuch has heard whispers from the south. Renly Baratheon had become betrothed to Margaery Tyrell at Highgarden this fortnight past, and now he has claimed the crown. The bride's father and brothers have bent the knee and sworn him their sword."

"Those are grave tidings," Ser Kevan frowned, the furrows of his brow rising.

"Lord Eddard Stark has been named his hand," Lord Tywin finished and Ser Kevan's frown deepened.

"Commanding his Northmen would have been an issue for us to solve, but Renly has no doubt now given him command of 100,000 men," Ser Kevan said. "His son sits at Riverrun. If he goes West we have to respond… but if we follow them, Lord Stark will lead the Reach into King's Landing unopposed."

"My daughter commands us to ride for King's Landing at once, to defend the Red Keep against King Renly and the Knight of Flowers," his mouth tightened. "Commands us, mind you. In the name of the king and council."

"How is King Joffery taking the news?" Tyrion asked?

"She coddles the boy still," his father responded. "Hasn't told him yet. Fears that he might insist on marching against Renly himself."

"With what army?" Tyrion asked. "You don't plan to give him this one?"

"The boy thinks he can lead the City Watch against Renly," Lord Tywin responded and Tyrion laughed, feeling it in the pit of his stomach. His father looked at him sharply again and he stopped. It wasn't the right time, still he couldn't help himself, the boy was a fool.

"If he took the watch, he would leave the city undefended," Ser Kevan said. "And with Lord Stannis on Dragonstone…."

"So what do we do?" Tyrion asked. "Forgive me for being hopeless, but it doesn't sound like we have a lot of paths to victory here. We are surrounded."

"I don't plan to stay here. We must somehow finish this war up with the young Lord Stark before his father marches Renly's men from Highgarden," he pointed at the map that had been laid out on the table. "Benjen Stark still remains to our North, but like you said Tyrion it is obvious his engagement with us was a trick, he will not pursuit us any further. So on the marrow, we make for Harrenhal."

"As you say, my lord, but why Harrenhal? That is a grim, unlucky place. Some call it cursed."

"Let them," Lord Tywin said. "Unleash Ser Addam and send him before us with reavers. Send forth Vargo Hoat and his freeriders as well, and Ser Amory Lorch. Each is to have three hundred horse. Tell them I want to see the riverlands burn from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork."

"They will burn, my lord," Ser Kevan said, rising. "I will give your commands." he bowed and left the room.

When they were alone, his father glanced at him for a long moment before he spoke again. "Your savages might relish a bit of rapine. Tell them they may ride with Vargo Hoat and plunder as they like."

"They will be happy to hear that," Tyrion commented, "but I should prefer to keep them with me."

"Then you should learn to control them, I will not have the city plundered."

"The city?" Tyrion wasn't sure what his father meant.

"King's Landing. I am sending you to court."

"And what am I to do there?"

"Rule," his father said curtly.

Tyrion scoffed. "My sister might have a word or two to say about that."

"Let her say what she likes. She has already failed me by letting Lord Stark escape. Now, the eunuch whispers tales of a cruel boy that she cannot contain. His cruelness must be curtailed before he doesn't anything that ruins us any further. If Cersei cannot do it, you must. And if these councilors are playing us false…"

Tyrion sighed. "Yes, I know. There heads will be on spikes, not that it matters. We are still surrounded. Maybe peace with the Starks is the right answer."

"They would demand the throne for Renly. That is something that we can not give up."

'Even for our survival?' Tyrion thought but dared not question. Instead he sighed. "Why me?"

His father rose abruptly. "You are my son."

That was when he knew. His father had given up on Jamie. He thought that Jamie was as good as dead, and he was now all his father had left. Tyrion wanted to slap him, to spit in his face, draw his dagger and cut out the heart of him….. but he didn't. He couldn't. It was still his father. He would not be known as a kinslayer.

"Once last thing," he said at the door. "You will not take the whore to court."

Tyrion waited for him to leave before he let out a short, harsh laugh and downed the rest of his wine. Shae would definitely be going to court. All of their heads would be on spikes soon anyway, so why not enjoy the pleasure?


	41. Bran IV

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Bran

The First keep had been rebuilt numerous times, but Maester Luwin told him that his father had made it new again. It was never really in decay, but the squad and round drum tower had been modified by his father so that the many servants of Winterfell would have a bigger space to call their own. He liked it because the tower was tall enough to climb. When he got to the top he would stand on top of the gargoyles, feeling on top of the realm.

He could see everything from those weather worn gargoyles. His father had them rebuild as well, but the summer snows had still done damage to them over the years. He was ten now and remembered when he first climbed them. The gray stone felt new and smooth under his feet, and there weren't any cracks. It made him feel confident, as he took his first step onto the head, making sure to avoid the pointy ears, and looked out over the castle.

He could see the broken tower, broken no more yet somehow it still kept its name. The servants of Winterfell had always called it the broken tower, and even when his father rebuilt it to them, the people it was still broken. It was the tallest building and watchtower in all of Winterfell and before, when he could walk, he dreamed of being brave enough to climb to the very top. He bet he could see the Wall from there. He never got the chance.

From the top of the gargoyles, he could also see the lichyard, a place that he tried to avoid. It was said that the Crypts belonged to the Starks, but the lichyard held its own special place for the people who didn't have his blood. It was home to the graves of the servants for the Kings of Winter. Generation after generation of butchers, maids, cooks, and stable masters, were buried there under the shadow of the First Keep. They deserved it. Winterfell was as much their home as it was any King of Winter, it was not lost on Bran their importance. What would he eat if not for the cooks?

He stomach rumbled, giving the answer his mind had asked. These days, all he could do was look up in sorrow at the gargoyles as they watched over Winterfell. He yearned to climb them, yearned to reach the summit and gaze over the horizon once again… but he couldn't. Not yet at least. He still was trying. He could take a few steps without falling, more if he used the help of a stick.

"One day," he promised himself, taking one last glance as he called for Hodor. "Bring me to the Great Hall to break my fast please."

Mornings had started to blend for him. He hated being confined to walls of his bedchamber and sleep was difficult. He was scared of what he would dream. Once he had dreamed that he had been pushed from the First Keep by Jamie Lannister but that couldn't be true because the first tower had been broken in that dream. Other times, he dreamed of Summer and hunting with Shaggy in the woods. He hated those the most. He would always wake up with the taste of blood on his mouth.

One night, he had dreamed that his father had came home and was in the crypts waiting for him and Rickon, but that dream also could not be true because Sansa wasn't there, in Wintefell with them, and neither was Arya. It was a strange dream, yes, but he chose to ignore it. There was no desire to go to the crypts. His father would not be there. When he woke up the next morning, a Maester Luwin showed him the comet shooting across the sky,

They traveled toward the armory, and up over the bridge that looked over the courtyard and went into the Great Keep. He wanted to ask Hodor to pause there, to stop so he could watch the men fight, but he didn't want to sadden himself anymore than he already was. Instead Hodor rushed quickly and quietly through the courtyard, until he reached the oak and iron doors of the Great Hall. There, he had to put Bran down in order to open those doors.

The great man swiftly lifted Bran back into his arms again, and carried him into the hall. He always chose to eat at this time. There were not a lot of people left in the hall this late in the morning so he could eat in peace without all the pitiful stares.

Hodor strolled easily past the banner covered walls and the trestle tables and marched up to the high table where he dropped Bran into the high seat of the Lords of Winterfell. Sansa was already sitting in the chair to his right, going over papers. It looked massive when his father sat in it, and it felt even bigger to him now. He always had to scoot himself to the edge of the chair and lean forward onto the table to see anything. He hated sitting in that chair….

But Sansa wouldn't, out of respect to him or for some other reason, Bran didn't know. He may be the acting Lord of Winterfell while father and Robb were away, but it wasn't a secret that Sansa was in charge. He did everything she said. Father had given her specific instructions on how to run the North before she departed King's Landing, and so far, he couldn't complain. He couldn't really imagine doing this without Sansa's help, and he was extremely grateful…

Yet, the whispers still got to him. The words of guards and servants alike, who spoke of a boy that sat in a man's chair and lived and died on the word of his sister. It angered him, but he felt as if there was nothing he could do about. They never whispered about his father when he listened to his mother for advice, so why they did it to him was lost to him. He considered asking Sansa about it, because surely she heard them too, but thought better of it. Maybe it was just him. Maybe in his self-pity he was imagining things.

"Any news," he asked his sister politely.

"Yes," she said, after putting down the papers in her hands and looking up to smile at him. "Word from Robb. All good news."

"Tell me," Bran said, once again feeling like he was hanging on her every word. Sure, if their father wasn't in the castle, mother would receive his letters, but she never took them if he was there. He would always read them first…

"Robb and Jon were able to free our Grandfather's castle from the Jamie Lannister's forces. They captured and now gather their strength at Riverrun to determine what they will do next. Robb says that the men tried to convince him to name father King of the North and Riverlands, but he was able to convince them it wasn't a smart idea while father is staying with Renly in the Reach."

Bran sighed. "He has the right idea of it. If they named father King, Renly would have him in chains before the letter announcing it was finished being read."

"I agree," Sansa nodded. "Even more so with the news we got weeks ago that Renly has named himself King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Aye," Bran said, "but what does Robb plan to do now?"

"Take the west. He did not say it in his letter, but it is the logical choice. He wrote in his letter that father asked for him to send mother and Jon to him but that was it."

He opened his mouth to reply, but the doors to the hallway burst open and he quickly shut it. Arya had walked in, her boots muddy, her arms full of scratches of the cats she had been catching in Winter Town. Her hair had streaks of mud in it as well, and her wrist was bruised with the mistakes she had obviously made in the training yard with Syrio.

He smiled at her, truly happy that his sister was able to do as she wished but Sansa was frowning. She wasn't pleased. She wore her frown well, but her sigh was audible as their sister walked causally between the tables and toward the chair to his lef..

Her body fell into the chair without grace and she quickly grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth, not needing words to tell them that she was hungry. She noticed that they were looking at her, and swallowed quickly before flashing a guilty grin. "Good morning."

Sansa sighed. "Septa Mordane tells me that you have missed lessons with her again. She says that she hasn't seen you in weeks."

"That's not true," Arya responded. "She saw me, she just couldn't catch me."

Bran laughed, but a sharp look from Sansa quieted his voice. He would need to try to stay out of this.

"Arya," Sansa chided, "Mother said that in order to keep your sword training you must make sure that you attend your other lessons, including those with the Septa."

"I do attend my lessons with Maester Luwin," Arya defended. "Ask Bran, he is there too."

"She has a point," Bran responded, his voice feeling small.

Sansa didn't seem to hear him though, as she spoke again directly to Arya. "She said all of your lessons, not some of them."

"Septa Mordane's lessons are boring and stupid," Arya responded. "When will knowing how to sow ever benefit me? In all your time helping Bran, has it ever helped you?"

"It's not about knowing how to sow, its about the moral lessons that come with it," Sansa argued back and Arya scoffed.

"Like the ones about how bastards are evil and how we should hate Jon," Arya responded back. "It is a waste of time."

"Mother said you must attend them," Sansa said as if her word were final. "If you don't start attending them then I will be forced to stop your lessons with Syrio."

"You can't do that," Arya said.

"I can and I will," Sansa responded..

"No you can't," Arya responded. "Your not in charge around here."

They both looked at him, willing him with their eyes to agree with them. He hadn't seen them argue like this in a long time. While they were obviously different, they mostly got a long and were civil to each other.

"It's the girl who runs the castle," the whispers spoke to him, suddenly. "She is in charge."

"I won't stop your lessons," Bran said, his voice suddenly feeling stronger than it had in months. "Father hired Syrio for a reason and I don't see an issue with you continuing those."

"And her other lessons?" Sansa asked, her face filled with expectations.

"I don't see the point in sowing either," Bran said, turning to smile at Arya. She laughed loudly then, and he joined her, and for a moment it felt like they were younger running through the castle with each other. Sansa huffed loudly, clearly not happy and excused herself from the conversation.

He couldn't really find it in him to care. He had to make his own choices sometimes.

* * *

A/N: Another one. Posted two tonight. Hope you guys enjoyed. This one obviously comes with a little bit of a time jump. Hope its not two much of a fast forward.

Until next time! As always I appreciate everything you guys!


	42. Robb V

A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.

* * *

Robb

"Father, see who I've bought," his mother spoke softly. They had moved his grandfather's bed out onto the balcony. "He likes to sit in the sun and watch the rivers," his uncle explained.

His mother had told stories about a grandfather who had been a big man; tall and broad in his youth, but portly and jolly as he grew older. She spoke of a man that fought bravely in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, and then again in Robert's rebellion, doing all he could to lead his people proudly and with honor.

His eyes opened to the sound of his mother's voice. "Little cat," he whispered, his voice tired but filled with joy yet somehow there was still the pain. "My little cat." He smiled then, it was a struggle, but his face lit up anyway, his smile reaching his eyes.

"My son, Robb, he has come to see you."

"Your boy," he whispered. "He has my eyes, I remember…"

"Yes," his mother smiled, her eyes full with tears. "I shall leave you to talk," she said, kissing her lord father gently on the brow before she withdrew."

Robb knelt and took his grandfather's hand in his. He had been avoiding this moment, for as long as he possibly could, but knew that he must face it now. Then man was dying, and Ser Arthur had been right. If he didn't speak to him now, get to know him now, while he still could, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"I am told Riverrun is free once again because of you," he spoke softly.

"Aye," Robb responded with a smile. "I may be a Stark of Winterfell, but family, duty, honor. Those words flow through my veins just as much as winter does. I could never leave Riverrun in peril."

Lord Hoster smiled. "I saw. That night, when it began, I told them… had to see. They carried me to the gatehouse… watched from the battlements. I could hear it. They told me it was you. The howls of the wolf dancing across the nights sky… they told me my grandson had come to free me. I had to see…. When that siege tower went up, gods… would have died then, and glad, if only I could have seen you and your siblings first."

He coughed then, a spasm of pain overtaking him, and his fingers clawed strongly at his own, begging for contact.

"I'll send for them," Robb responded. "Bran will have to stay in Winterfell, but Sansa, Arya, and Rickon they could come."

"No," his grandfather smiled sadly. "You have a war to win my boy…. too dangerous. It wasn't meant to be. I am happy you are here. Sit with me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Robb responded.

Lord Hoster smiled again. "You sound much like your father… I miss him too… Still angry at him but he was a good man. He has treated my cat good. A father can't ask for much more."

Robb felt the need to defend his father for a moment, but he didn't for even though his grandfather was dying, the secret wasn't his to tell.

"Your mother," he continued. "She tells me that you have bought me prisoners." He coughed again, his entire body shaking.

"Yes grandfather," Robb responded. "While Riverrun was held captive by Jamie Lannister, Lord Frey sat in his castle and refused to let me cross so that I could help. I hope you are not wroth with me, but I took it from him. A man that would dishonor you so does not deserve a castle in your lands."

Lord Hoster nodded. "I should have dealt with Lord Walder a long time ago… I didn't and it almost cost me. Thank you."

"What shall be done with him?"

"What would your father do?"

"For betrayal? Failure to answer his summons during time of war? The penalty would be death but the Twins and the surrounding lands, it is a pretty large region. I don't think we can afford leave it unintended."

"You have a brother… Brandon… after your uncle right? Give it to him. My brother… the blackfish… he should hold it until your brother is ready…"

"Bran?" Robb questioned. "He had an accident grandfather."

"Your mother told me…. Fell from a horse… can't walk.. but one does not need to walk to rule. He just needs these…" he said pointing to his head and his heart. "Your father… so honorable. I know he has taught you all as well. Bran… yes… Bran will hold the crossing."

"As you wish," Robb responded.

"Good… I heard," he coughed again. "I heard you had a wolf… call for him. I wish to see the great beast that helped my grandson in battle. … He can sit with us… watch the rivers… you will sit with me?"

"Aye," Robb said and whistled softly. Grey Wind came swiftly, trotting into the room from where he sat guard outside the door. He was on alert at first, but he calmed quickly and sat next to Robb.

Lord Hoster laughed, but Robb frowned. He could tell it hurt.

"Almost as big as you…" his grandfather finally was able to say. "Such manners… you have trained him well."

"He is family," Robb responded and his grandfather nodded.

"Of course he is… now listen young Robb… you are your wolf both…. If we are quiet enough we can hear the rivers sing…" he hummed his last works, a blissful smile on his face as he stared off into the distance.

* * *

As he waited in Riverrun's Great Hall for the prisoner to be brought before them, he saw his mother watching him, her eyes thoughtful as she looked. She, no doubt, would want to know what he and his grandfather spoke about, and Robb had no reason to lie to her but first he had business that he must attend to. He sat side by side with his uncle Edmure as a show of unity.

When Ser Arthur brought in the captive, Robb took Ice from the old sheath and laid it out across his lap. The ancient sword of his house was so large, it almost covered the gap between he and his uncle, and made the sword in his uncle's lap look like a toy. The threat was obvious.

"Lord Stark, Lord Tully," Ser Arthur spoke before he pushed the old man to his knees. "Here he is. Lord Walder Frey."

"Rise, Lord Frey," Robb spoke. The dungeons had not been kind to the old man. His face had sunken in, and he looked more pale than usual. Still, his head rose defiant and proudly. He stared at them with as much contempt and disgust as he could muster. Grey Wind growled and quickly contempt eyes were replaced by wary ones. Lord Frey would rather be beheaded than have his throat ripped out. He rose quickly to his feet.

"We have gathered here for this trial. Listened to the words you have spoken about how you were preparing to send men to us if only we had waited a couple of more days. We have deemed this words false based on the evidence we have gathered and the toll you tried to get from my nephew. You are guilty Lord Frey. My nephew has spoken my father, and I have confirmed his wishes. Your sentence is as follows; The Frey family has been stripped of all of their lands and titles, and it will fall upon my Uncle to rule those lands until my other nephew Bran Stark comes of age to take over."

Lord Walder Frey's eyes bulged, words coming from his lips were nothing but angry spits and spurts. Grey Wind growled again, but it didn't matter this time, Lord Frey had found his voice. "Curse you! The seven hells to all of you! I hope the Lannister's kill each and everyone of you, slowly and painfully and when you die I will be waiting for you just so you can hear my laugh for all eternity.

"Your sentence," Robb continued talked over him, "for betrayal, and failure to answer your liege's call is death. If we were in the North, I would have taken your head personally by now. Our way is the old way Lord Frey, and Winter comes for us all…. But I must respect the laws and rules of my grandfather, and therefore my Uncle will decide how you die."

"When sun rises, he will hang." Lord Tully said.

"I demand a trial by combat!" the late Lord shouted and Robb grinned.

"Ser Arthur," he asked. "Will you stand for us?"

"I will," the knight spoke and stepped forward. Lord Frey was again at a loss for words. He knew that no one would dare stand across the Sword of the Morning.

"Who will be your champion?" his uncle, Lord Tully asked. Lord Frey did not respond, so his uncle nodded. "As I thought. Ser Arthur please escort him back to his cell…. Or maybe you could throw him in with the Mountain. I'm sure Gregor Clegane could use some company."

* * *

"Do we grow stronger sitting here? Ser Arthur and his squire Jon have done us a great service by stopping the Mountain and his men, but even now our outriders report that Lord Twyin has sent our more men to destroy our lands. We should march on Harrenhal."

"If you desire to march on Harrenhal so much uncle, then you can join my uncle Benjen. I've told you already, my uncle marches toward Harrenhal with a force of 25,000 men to put it to siege. 10,000 more north men will join us here at Riverrun. Once my Uncle has surrounded Harrenhal, we will march west, taking everything we can, and Tywin Lannister will not be able to respond, You can take 5,000 men and join my Uncle Benjen, but I much rather you stay here, protect your lands against those who choose to raid. The rest of the riverlords will join me in the west."

"You plan to take the rock?" Jon asked him, a smile upon his face.

"If I need to, I will," Robb said confidently. "But unfortunately brother, father has called for you. He wishes for you and mother to ride for him in the reach."

Jon laughed. "Show me this letter. Prove to me that the Young Wolf isn't trying to steal all the glory for himself."

"I have showed you the letter," Robb teased. "He has asked for you, but mostly his words were for mother. He wishes to see her again."

"Then I will go, although I do not wish to leave my father here without me again," his mother sighed.

"I will spend as much time with him as I can mother," Robb promised. "I have enjoyed his company greatly. His words, his wisdom, so far it has served me well."

"What has he said?" his mother asked him, predictably curious.

"He has given me advice. I have told him my plans for the west and Harrenhal. He has helped me refine them, told me everything he could about the riverlands, and sometimes, we just listen to the rivers sing."

"The rivers sing?" Jon asked. "I look at the stars, and I'm dreary, but you listen to a river sing and all is supposed to be good and well?"

"You have an odd obsession with that comet brother," Robb responded. "The Greatjon told me that the old gods have unfurled a red flag of destruction from the north. Uncle Edmure here, thinks it's an omen of victory for Riverrun, somehow he sees a fish with a long tail, in the Tully colors, red comet against the blue sky and you…"

"I see a dragon…" Jon responded quietly, and Robb hushed instantly. It was a bold thing to admit, and even then, Lord Edmure was looking at Jon strangely, but Robb changed the subject. He would talk to his brother later.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is how we win this war. I will take the West. Uncle Benjen will surround Lord Tywin at Harrenhal which leaves King Renly and father to march on King's Landing unopposed once you join them. Soon, we will all be back in Winterfell preparing for Winter, which I may remind you all, is really what matters."

"As you say, my lord," Jon teased before bowing and leaving the room.

* * *

A/N: Here is another one. I really appreciate all the response and reviews, so I thought I would take some time to respond to a couple.

Mooshi, Jean, and many others who commented on Bran's choice at the end of last chapter - That was the point. Bran made that decision, not because it was the best decision to make, but because he is a child still and the whispers of his sister's dominance were starting to get to him. From his pov, he is a cripple, who although he has tried tremendously hard, still can't walk, and people think his title is just a that. It doesn't mean anything.

I also think you guys are wrong about Arya and her relationship with the Septa. While yes, it is clear that Ned and Caitlyn have done everything to raise their children in both faiths, note that this is not the norm and Ned lets it happen out of respect for Caitlyn. However, unlike Sansa, who is accepting toward the teaching of the faith, Arya is often ridiculed and chastised for not being Sansa. The valuable lessons that she could learn by spending time with the woman are watered down by the hate the woman cleary has for the north and northern culture. In the books, it appears that Lyanna grew up just fine with Old Nan taking a Septa's place. In my story, we have Syrio, and Old Nan, and Maester Luwin, who actually sort of respect who Arya is, and therefore, I think, she is better learning from them. Will Bran come to see he made a mistake? Who knows,

Anja - Your smile is actually the best review I get and I've gotten it for 40 chapters. I seriously look foward to it, because in my mind, I over analyze and I'm like, is the smile a good thing this time, or maybe he or she is disappointed, what does it mean? Lol. I love it. Thank you.

Javi30 - The Tyrells come soon.

HKT29 - Ned knows the future through his children and wife. That's all I'll say about that lol.

Everyone else - Thanks for being in love. I seriously do appreciate it!

Until next time!


End file.
